


Oh, if Only I Could Stop Dreaming of You

by DraketheDragon



Series: Servant Shenanigans [10]
Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, BACK TO SINGULARITY F WE GOOOO, CasCu gets it sometimes but really Marie has it, CasCu v Sleep who will win, Catch me picking and choosing who was in Singularity F, F/F, F/M, Gossip Gang Go, I think I finally hit on a characterization for Shadow!Emiya so thats good, I'm back, M/M, Marie and Alter MVP, Marie has the braincell, No Beta We Die Like Shadow!Emiya, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sleep Deprivation, Spoilers I guess?, Tags May Change, The Chulainns are a family you can't change my mind, Will tag them as they are revealed, eh whatever, enemies to reluctant allies to lovers, hmmmmm anything else for now?, i think im good for now, i'll give you a hint, its sleep, nah, now to find a name, thats not Shademiya, with angst, you're welcom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29747028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraketheDragon/pseuds/DraketheDragon
Summary: The first time they meet, the city is dark, and the sky above is studded with stars, gleaming bright against the inky blackness. The enemy has triggered one of Cu’s traps. Cu knows when it happens. It is the slight pull in his stomach as the spell is released, the pillar of flames burning hot on the horizon. He moves immediately, runes boosting his speed, and arrives on the rooftop just in time for the enemy to trigger another hidden rune, to dodge another jet of fire.Once upon a time, Cu would have never laid traps, but he is older and wiser now, and knows that it is best to weaken an opponent before facing them.
Relationships: Cú Chulainn Alter | Berserker/Heroic Spirit EMIYA Alter | Archer, Cú Chulainn | Caster/Heroic Spirit Shadow EMIYA | Archer, Cú Chulainn | Lancer (Fate/Prototype)/Fuuma Kotarou | Assassin, Cú Chulainn | Lancer/Heroic Spirit EMIYA | Archer, Fujimaru Ritsuka/Mash Kyrielight | Shielder, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Servant Shenanigans [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1854901
Comments: 32
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey ya'll! Longer wait then normal but eh, it is what it is. I would like to say a few things before we jump in.   
> A) I will not be sticking to a strict schedule for this. Updates should come anywhere from one week to two weeks but honestly, no promises. However, it shouldn't take me longer then two weeks and a half to get a chapter out. Hopefully.   
> B) I hope you enjoy!  
> C) Have a great day!

_ The first time they meet, the city is dark, and the sky above is studded with stars, gleaming bright against the inky blackness. The enemy has triggered one of Cu’s traps. Cu knows when it happens. It is the slight pull in his stomach as the spell is released, the pillar of flames burning hot on the horizon. He moves immediately, runes boosting his speed, and arrives on the rooftop just in time for the enemy to trigger another hidden rune, to dodge another jet of fire. _

_ Once upon a time, Cu would have never laid traps, but he is older and wiser now, and knows that it is best to weaken an opponent before facing them. _

_ His opponent stumbles away from the flames, cursing violently. The light dies down to a manageable level and his opponent is no longer a shadowy form. He is tan, with white hair that sticks half up half down in a hopeless tangle of snarls and makes Cu’s fingers itch for a brush because proper hair care is important damn it. The man’s eyes flicker with the fire's light, perhaps a bit too dull to be proper amber. His high necked, black and silver sleeveless shirt is charred, his armguards streaked with ash, his dark red buttcape burned and spattered with embers. His skin is scorched in places, turned red and blistered by the fire’s heat. But despite all that, he looks very good for someone who’s been caught in flames twice. _

_ Perhaps if Cu was younger, he might have taken far greater note of that, but he knows better now. Getting attached, truly attached is never a good idea. Attachment just leads to heartache and betrayal and death.  _

_ The fire dies fully. Darkness cloaks the rooftop again. The man jerks his head around, eyes peering for any shape, but Cu is well hidden, runes cloaking his presence. “Caster!” The word is a growl, and Cu can’t help but grin at the anger and pain, at the promise of a fight. _

_ Older and wiser, sneakier and cleverer, it doesn’t matter. A battle is a battle and will always set his soul alight. _

_ He stares at the enemy. Not Saber or Lancer, they wouldn’t be skulking around on rooftops. Not Assassin or Rider, Assassin would have run at the first spark, and Rider wouldn’t have taken so much damage. Which leaves Archer. He can see it, the enemy has broad shoulders, fingers sculpted to draw a bow. Cu grins wider and pulls his hood low over his eyes. He steps out of the shadows, staff in hand. “Archer.” _

_ Archer turns to him, weapons coalescing in his grip. Swords, two, thick and awkward looking, one white, one black. The sight sends a jolt through him, the faint idea that this isn’t how things should go. Archer is wrong. His hair should have been up instead of this tousled, bed head look, his eyes should be grey instead of dull amber, he should have a red jacket, and Cu should have Gae Bolg in his hands, ready to leap into action. But the feeling disappears as soon as it comes, and there is no more time to think or voice surprise at Archer’s choice of weapons because the battle has already begun. _

_ Archer lunges, a blur, his buttcape flapping, swords ready to taste Cu’s blood. Cu’s staff leaps into action, blocking, spinning, knocking away his strikes. Chips of wood fly through the air, scattering at each blow. Archer’s face is a mask of concentration, his eyebrows furrowed, a frown decorating his face. His strikes are sure, as if he knows what Cu is going to do next before he does it. A cut draws itself across his arm, another bites into his side, it's all he can do to fend off the blows. So he dances back, bare feet scuffing across the rooftop, and before Archer can follow him, his staff is alight, flames fanning in the air, reflecting in Archer’s eyes. Those eyes widen, he leaps back, too far. Cu clicks his tongue, another pillar of flame, this time lasting longer, reaching towards the sky. It dies down, and Archer is left gasping, burns crawling across his skin. He snarls once, then retreats, in spirit form and leaving faster than Cu can follow. _

_ Cu watches him go, fighting the need to chase, the need to hunt. Instead he turns to the rooftop and etches a rune in the concrete. Kaunaz. Fire. He has traps to replace, and a battle to replay in his head. He needs to turn it over and over in his mind like a gem or a stone, to search for the flaws that would lead him to Archer’s death. _

_ Their first battle, victory is his. _

Cu Chulainn, Caster, Servant, woke with a gasp, and for a moment he was still in Fuyuki, on that rooftop with the stars above and Archer on the retreat. Then the real world filtered back in. Noise, from the TV that still played  _ Night of the Living Dead.  _ The crick in his neck and the numbness in his fingers from where he’d fallen awkwardly against the armrest of his couch. The lights of his room, still on, still bright. Shit. He’d fallen asleep. With a groan, he pushed himself up, blinking blearily at the movie. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. On the floor,  _ House of Leaves: The Remastered Full - Color Edition  _ laid forlorn and forgotten. A similarly abandoned cup of coffee sat on the table by his couch, cold and useless.

Useless like the movie. Useless like the book.

With a growl, CasCu stumbled to the bathroom. He snapped the lights on with sharp movements. The sink faucet was similarly treated, icy water splashed against ceramic. He cupped his hands and watched as the liquid pooled in his palms, slipping through the cracks between his fingers in thin rivulets. He splashed some against his face and hissed as the water hit his skin. He blinked at the figure in the mirror, all eyebags and snarled hair. A poster child for sleep deprivation. With a curse he reached out and grabbed his brush, began to yank it angrily through his hair. Water trickled down his cheeks and dropped onto his shirt. 

He didn’t care.

It was blistering cold outside, even through the layers he had pulled on and the runes he had woven and his father’s blood running through his veins. That was fine. He needed the cold, the bite of it. The way it stole his breath and attempted to draw ice across his cheeks. Tonight was not a nice night to be out. The snow was furious, visibility was shot. The wind howled like a thousand wolves. Beneath his feet, the snow turned to slush, seeping into his boots. With careful movements he lit a cigarette and breathed in deeply. 

By Lugh, he couldn’t get a good smoke anywhere around Chaldea without being hunted down for sport, not with Nightingale running the infirmary. The only safe place was out here.

He exhaled. The wind stole the smoke, taking it to who knows where. The cold was just enough to keep him awake, but not so cold it made him tired. Good. He needed to stay awake. He refused to face  _ him  _ again.

Servants didn’t need sleep. It was common knowledge, and a big fat, bullshit lie. CasCu hadn’t slept properly in four months, eighteen days, and twenty one hours, and now sleep was hammering at the door, demanding to be let in. It had started with the blackouts, small moments where his mind would just go blank, which he’d fended off with runes. But the runes weren’t cutting it anymore. The books weren’t cutting it. The movies weren’t cutting it. The coffee wasn’t cutting it. He was tempted to find Sherlock and beg him for one of his hidden stashes of drugs, but if Nightingale found out, they would both be dead. 

At least if he was dead he wouldn’t have to sleep. With a snort, he turned his thoughts away from that idea. It was dumb, he was already dead after all. Nothing but a ghost or a remnant or a shade, whatever the fuck he wanted to call it. 

In the beginning it hadn’t been too bad. Proto had been there, a constant reminder of how ridiculous and cheerful he’d once been, but it had been nice to have someone who knew. Not about Fuyuki, although Proto had his own version, but about what it meant to be Cu Chulainn. The betrayals, the pain, the fact that being a hero wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be in the end. But from the beginning Archer had been there as well. Not  _ Archer,  _ but Cu’s Archer, kitchen god, untouchable, and utterly in love with his other Lancer self. And then Alter’s Archer had come, although if either heard him say that he was dead meat, but there was still no sign of  _ Archer.  _ And with the dreams, over and over and over again, spilling into Proto’s and Alter’s minds, it hadn’t seemed right to sleep.

And after Cu had been summoned, well, there was no reason to burden him with CasCu’s War and the mess that had come from it. With the Archer he knew. With his mistakes. With his guilt. Dumb, all of it. And sleep was similarly dumb. It might have been trying to claw him back into his clutches, but he refused. Fuck sleep. He didn’t need it.

With a groan, he stared at his cigarette. The wind and snow had blown it out. The tip was dark. The smoke spiraled into the grainy night around him. He cursed and relit it, watching the flames flicker bright in the dark, a tiny speck of warmth against the cold. He sat, wincing as the snow started to melt and sink into his clothes. Carefully, he brought the cigarette to his lips, sucked in another lung full and blew it out. He watched as the world around him began to lighten imperceptibly as somewhere the sun rose behind the storm

Breakfast came around as it always did, and CasCu dressed for the occasion. Hawaiian shirt, leather pants, decorative pocket chain, and a single silver bracelet. They were his normal clothes, what was expected of Cu Chulainn. He took a moment to fix his grin into place, then stalked out of his room, heading towards the cafeteria. He needed coffee and food and conversation, preferably in that order.

Somehow, despite the many ways Chaldea had changed over the months since his Summons, his breakfast partners had remained the same. It was the only time he could count on his other selves for a meal. Cu ate with the Chaos Crew at lunch and with Emiya at dinner. Proto had started disappearing from lunch altogether and ate dinner with Mordred and Fran. Alter was Alter, he was in the cafeteria half the time and roaming around Chaldea the other half. More recently, he’d been spending that other half of time with Edgemiya. But breakfasts, almost always early ones, were for them.

The cafeteria was quiet, the room mostly empty. The first course of food sat steaming on the bars. Cu was already there, draped in his seat. He grinned widely in CasCu’s direction. “I got you coffee.” He hefted a large cup, then pointed to a plate. “And food.”

CasCu changed directions and headed his way. “Really? You’re in a good mood today.” He grinned crookedly. “Anything happen that I should know about?”

“No.” Cu said cheerfully, digging into his bacon. “You though, look like shit.”

“Still look better than you.” He tipped back his drink and gulped, ignoring the way it burned down his throat. His brain didn’t wake up like it should have. Damn it, he was becoming immune. More caffeine was the answer. Perhaps he could pry away some of Gudao’s monster drinks and drain them instead. He slammed the cup against the table and collapsed into his seat.

Cu glanced at his empty cup. “Shit CasCu, are you okay?”

CasCu grinned at him. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Cu narrowed his eyes. “Well, the fact that you just drained a steaming hot cup of coffee in under a minute suggests otherwise.”

“Smart aleck.”

“Assehole.”

CasCu rolled his eyes and started scraping food up and into his mouth. Oh Lugh, it was Emiya’s cooking. He fought and failed to restrain a moan. As always, his mind wandered to Archer, about whether or not he’d been able to cook like this, but as always, he jerked his mind away from the thought. He was awake, not asleep. He didn’t need to think about Archer. Especially not with Cu watching him.

“Alter come on!” It was Proto’s voice, loud and exuberant and whiny, hanging on to Alter’s arm as the Berserker stalked towards their table. “Spill!”

CasCu swallowed his mouthful. Thank Lugh, a distraction. Hell, even Cu’s eyes had flicked from him to the scowling Alter. “Yeah Alter,” CasCu said, keeping his tone light and playful, “explain whatever it is that Proto wants you to explain.” 

Alter growled, shook Proto off of him, then stalked to the food bar. Proto sat beside CasCu, a scowl on his face. It was a fake scowl, CasCu could tell. His eyes were dancing. “Alter,” he said, “won’t tell me why Edgemiya left his room this morning.”

Cu choked.

CasCu’s shoulders almost sagged in relief. Hell yes. Now this was the type of distraction he preferred, one juicy enough to rip his mind from trying to recreate his interactions with Archer. “Oh?” He leaned forwards, chin on palm, elbow on table, and tracked Alter with his eyes as the Berserker made his plate. “Did he now?”

Proto nodded. “Yeah, just walked out all nonchalant when I banged on Alter’s door. It was as if he’d never not been in there.” He stared at the table. “Oh wait, food.” Then he was up and scrambling towards the breakfast bar.

Cu snorted. “They grow up so fast don’t they.” He smirked in CasCu’s direction. “I assume you’re going to try to grill Alter? It might be a bit more dangerous.”

CasCu rolled his eyes. “I have to, Proto’s got all his shit figured out, you have all your shit figured out. Alter’s the only one with drama left.”

“You could focus on your own drama instead.” Cu suggested.

“What drama? I’m the best put together out of all you messes.” He barely registered the lie as it slipped past his lips. He was used to lying. He couldn’t remember the time he’d abbored it. Age had taught him better. Sometimes, lying was necessary. 

There was a yelp. Alter stalked back to their table, face stony, his tail lashing. By the food bar, Proto hopped up and down, fingers around his shin, cursing up a storm. CasCu grinned, opened his mouth -

“No.” Alter’s voice was a rumble. His plate slammed down beside Cu’s.

CasCu tried again.

“No.”

He groaned. “Fine, I won’t ask.” He looked down his nose at the hulking figure, “I’ll just guess.” He turned to Cu. “What do you think they were up to?”

Cu’s face was a mask of restrained laughter. “Fighting.”

CasCu nodded. “Fighting.”

Cu’s lips twitched at Alter’s low growl. “Yes, fighting. Alter probably punched him in the face.”

Alter’s growl rose a notch.

CasCu tapped his cheek. “Do you suppose he punched with his fist or his face?”

“Would. You. Two. Fish. Wives. Stop. Trying. To. Scour. For. Gossip. Where. There. Is. None.” Alter’s normal monotone was shot to hell. Each word was a violent growl. His eyes were blazing, a furious red against his dark skin. He was blushing too, a rare accomplishment.

CasCu blinked at him innocently. “We aren’t gossiping.”

“Yeah,” Cu leaned back in his seat and took a loud slurp of his drink, “We’re just guessing.”

“That you too were fighting.”

“With your lips.”

Alter hurled his plate at CasCu, then grabbed Cu’s and shoved it into the Lancer’s face. There had been no time to react, no time to move. The food, eggs doused in syrup because Alter had shit taste, dripped slowly down CasCu’s face and onto his wonderful Hawaiian shirt. “Hey, I liked this shirt!”

Cu reached up and swiped grits from his cheeks. “Totally uncalled for.”

Alter smirked, the faintest thing. “Completely called for.”

“You know what else is called for? This.” Cereal and milk splashed over Alter’s face. The Berserker sucked in a harsh breath, air whistling through his teeth. Proto turned and ran back towards the food bar, laughing wildly. Alter twisted in his seat, eyes glowing, lips contorted into a menacing scowl, all his very sharp teeth on full display. The effect was slightly undermined by the milk dripping down his face and the fruit loops decorating his hair. 

Actually, a food fight would work as a better distraction then Alter’s love life. CasCu grabbed his plate, stood, and tossed it at Proto. He dodged, still laughing, and spun around, opening his mouth to speak - and slammed right into Boudica. She grabbed him by the shoulders before he could tumble to the floor. Her green eyes scanned the room. “You four,” she said, with the voice of a woman who had commanded armies, “Are lucky that no one is here yet. Clean this up. Now.”

Hmm, chores should work just as well as a food fight. CasCu stood and stretched. “Yes ma’am. You heard the lady, let's get to work.”

In the end, they almost made things worse. Really, the Tamamo’s were just so fun to tease, Emiya too, and it wasn’t his fault that Raiko had overheard him and Cu guessing what Alter had been up to with Edgemiya, but in the end they escaped unscathed. Cu dodged out to hang with the Chaos Crew. Alter disappeared. Proto headed towards the simulator with a dopey grin on his face, which meant that he was probably visiting Fuuma. As for CasCu, he headed back towards his room, took a shower, and changed clothes. He’d managed to get the worst of the stains off earlier, Boudica had a crazy supply of stain removers in the kitchen, but he was afraid that the eye numbing brightness of his shirt would be ruined forever. 

Oh well. He’d deal.

And he had other things to focus on. With the scattering of his other selves, sleep had come back to claw at his consciousness. He kept on catching the whiff of smoke, the jar of blades against his staff. Archer's amber eyes were imprinted in his vision every time he closed his own. 

He headed towards the library. Of his incarnations in Chaldea, he read the most, although Proto had slowly been dragged into the hobby. The library was a good place to not drift away into dreamland. There was always something going on there. Shakespeare always had a slip of gossip. Hans was always writing away on something. Medusa was easy to talk to as well, and she always had good book recommendations. Normally her suggestions were enough to keep him awake, but this time . . . well, he’d try reading  _ House of Leaves: The Remastered Full - Color Edition  _ in the library. He needed to know if it was him or the book that wasn’t working.

By Lugh he hoped it was his book. 

The library was crowded today, the murmur of voices penetrated the air. Hans and Shakespeare cornered the semi-newish Caster, Scheherazade, who pressed close against Nicotris’s side. Medusa was showing Jack and Alice a story book. In one of the rows, Quetz and Eresh talked softly, the Lancer with wild movements, the Rider with a wide smile. Fran was pulling a book out of the philosophy section. Beside her stood Moriarity, glancing at the titles. 

CasCu passed them all, listening to their snippets of conversation with half an ear. He slipped through the rows of books and towards the back of the room, where large windows allowed light to spill into the area. It was a cold light, frosty and unfriendly. Outside the blizzard raged, all swirling flecks of white against grey. This was the best place to read, with the fury of the storm on one side and the safety of Chaldea on the other. CasCu had marked this place out when he’d first arrived, and now the window nooks were lined with pillows instead of being blank and bare like they had been in the beginning. 

He headed towards one and sat down, pressing his side against the window. The dry chill attempted to sink into his bones, but he barely felt it. The plane of glass vibrated slightly against his arm. For a moment, he watched the wild swirl of snow and wind outside, watched as his reflection swam into view. His brushed hair shone, his eyes gleamed, but the bags beneath his eyes had yet to go away. He doubted they ever would.

He curled up, pressing his toes against the cold metal of the nook, and began to read.

_ The next time they meet, they are in an abandoned warehouse, and it is sundown. The sky is painted with reds and oranges, bloody and unforgiving before they fade into softer shades of purple. A few stars glint amongst the explosion of color. This time he is not lured to Archer’s position by his traps. This time it is all fight and fire, searching for a place where Rider’s chariot will be useless. _

_ He weaves between pillars and darts through crumbling doorways, runes blazing hot against his skin. Riado, journey. Ingwaz, energy. He is flying, robes barely constricting his feet, staff light in his hand. He feels Rider’s presence, a tattoo against the inside of his skull, and someone else as well. Close, getting closer as Rider peels off. Then he is there, Archer, exploding from Spirit From, swords in hand. Cu dodges just in time. The blades knock against his hood, throwing it back from his face. Cu skids to a halt, posing as if his staff is a spear, and not for the first time he misses Gae Bolg keenly.  _

_ Archer lands and spins around, blades ready. He looks better now that he has healed from the flames. His shoulders are stiff. His fingers wrap tightly around the grips of his blades. His hair is just a mess as it was last time. “Caster.” Cu’s class is a growled out thing, all fury and anger. _

_ Cu straightens and spins his staff. He plants it against the ground and grins. “Archer.” _

_ Archer sneers. His eyes, despite being an almost warm color, are cold and flinty. “You trapped every roof in this city.” _

_ Cu smirks. “Not every roof. But I will admit to trapping most of them.” He tilts his head and bares his teeth. “Have fun finding safe zones.” _ _   
_ _ Archer flinches. “If I never see fire again it will be too soon.” _

_ “Shame.” Then Cu leaps back, kuanaz burning at his fingertips. Flames shoot out, Archer is already moving, ducking past the stream, blades crossed over his chest. His face is a mask, and something in Cu recoils at the sight. Battles should not be fought with blank faces. He twists away from Archer’s biting blades, anger roiling in his gut. He beats it back down, more runes lighting in front of him, burning red into the air. This is no time to be angry.  _

_ Archer dodges away, spinning between the blasts. The firelight paints him with pretty pictures, but Cu is not focused on that. He returns to dodging and weaving between the crumbling foundations of the warehouse, keeping Archer at bay with a barrage of missiles. No doubt if he had Gae Bolg this battle would already be finished, and the thought makes him grit his teeth. By Lugh, what he wouldn’t do for his spear. _

_ Archer changes the game. He throws his blades, black and white shooting through the air, Cu ducks, and when he pops up Archer has switched his blades for a bow, an arrow, long and slim and silver, already knocked. His runes for speed and strength are fading, he can only scramble out of the way and throw up algiz. Protection. Red beads at the tip of Archer’s arrow, he shoots, the air splits, sound breaks when the arrow meets his shield. The impact tosses Cu back, and he skids across the concrete, staff dropping from numb fingers. Blood drips down the side of his face. He wheezes with each breath.  _

_ Shit, that had almost been a noble phantasm. Lugh dammit. He’s taken less damage then he could have, but it still hurts. He spits out a wad of blood. “You really ain’t playing around, are you kid?” _

_ “I’m not a kid.” Archer’s voice is cold. It comes from above him. Cu twists, and there he is, blades back in hand and arcing down for the finishing strike. He rolls, dagez at his fingertips, closing his eyes just in time as light bursts across the room. Archer falls back, cursing, arm over his eyes. Cu takes the chance to go into Spirit Form and run, riado back on his skin and powering his flight.  _

_ Damn him. Damn that Archer, pulling a trick like that in their second battle. Honestly, Cu had only done what any self aware Servant should have done, limiting the battlefield to his advantage. There was no reason to be so angry about it! And that face . . . blank and empty and numb. That made his blood boil. So damn him for overreacting to Cu’s traps. Damn him for acting like their fight had been boring. Damn him for forcing Cu to retreat.  _

_ Their second battle, victory belongs to Archer. _

“CasCu,” the word slipped into his mind, through the rapid beating of his heart and his flight from the battlefield, “CasCu wake up.” 

His eyes snapped open. His head pressed against the cold glass. He could see Medusa in the reflection, violet eyes worried behind her glasses. He shifted, groaning, and looked up. “Yeah?” His voice was cracked, he could hear the pain written through it. He licked his lips, and rubbed his eyes. He’d fallen asleep again. Shit. Fucking hell. 

Medusa stepped back, her hand falling from his shoulder. “You were talking in your sleep.” She said gently. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He hissed out, staring numbly at the book in his hands. It looked like he’d made it a couple chapters, five at most, but what he’d read was a blur. “Medusa, you sure this book is as scary as you say it is?”

She hummed and plucked it from his fingers. “I remember it being pretty frightening. But you have read our whole collection of horror and horror adjacent, and it's possible that you’re just numb by now. Perhaps you should try switching to a different genre for a while?”

He snorted and swung himself off the ledge. “Like what?”

She raised an eyebrow. “History, romance, adventure, there are a plethora of stories out there that aren’t horror.”

CasCu huffed at her. History was boring and only practical for research purposes. Romance, what was he, some sappy teenager? As for adventure, there might be something there, but as much as he loved fighting, he didn’t want to read about it every night. “What time is it?”

“A quarter till four.” She said, smiling slightly as the blood drained from his face. “Are you going to keep the book for now, or do you want to return it?”

“I might as well finish it. See you around Medusa.” Then he ran past her, ignoring Hans’s indignant cry of ‘No running!’, through the door and out into the hallway. He was going to be late.

CasCu slowed down before entering Marie’s room. There was no reason to rush, not anymore. He was already late. With a sigh, he pushed open the door. Achilles was already there, in the middle of some antidote, feet on the table as his arms waved around wildly. Marie had a sheaf of papers in front of her, a giggle on her lips. Her eyes flicked from Achilles to him, mouth opening slightly, surprise painting across her features. “CasCu, are you well? You look . . .”

“Like hell.” Achilles finished, breaking off from his story. “When was the last time you slept?”

CasCu groaned as he closed the door behind him. He sagged against the wood, then pushed off, walking to his seat before sinking into the plush cushions. “Twenty minutes ago, apparently. Anything good I missed?”

“Only the newest plot of the Chaos Crew’s next installment.” Marie peered at him, worry written across her face. “But besides that, no. How about you?”

CasCu went through the process of making himself a cup of tea. “Edgemiya left Alter’s room this morning. Eresh and Quetz have been making progress on the play, or at least the dynamic between their characters, if not the actual strain between each other. Scheherazade definitely depends on Nicotris to help her out.” He took a gulp of his tea and groaned as the warmth filled his stomach. By Lugh, with the dream still swirling in his head, that felt good. He set the tea down. “I didn’t get the chance to talk to Shakespeare, so that’s all I have. What about you, Marie?”

The Rider straightened, her eyes gleaming. She reached out and picked her papers up delicately, glancing down at the pages as if to spark her memory. CasCu doubted she needed them, Marie had a mind like a vault for gossip. “Well,” she said, “D’eon also caught that bit of gossip about Alter and Edgemiya. She also saw them hanging out in one of the entertainment rooms. Not talking, but they weren’t arguing either, so that is progress I would say. Jeanne, Sieg, and Astolfo have yet to declare themselves in a relationship, but from what I’ve gleaned from Jeanne, she’s become more open about her feelings for the two. Really, Jalter and Jasel’s rampage was probably the best thing to happen to Chaldea in a while. Medusa and Parvati have finally stopped beating around the bush. Jalter and Salter have yet to proclaim an official relationship, but between the three of us, I’m doubtful they ever will. D’eon did mention that they were seen leaving Salter’s room together, arguing of course.” She flipped the page. “Let’s see, Gudao continues to be as oblivious as always. That stunt your Chaos Crew pulled, Achilles, has barely made a dent. Lily has finally accepted our invitation, and shall officially be joining us tomorrow. Sanson spotted someone going outside last night.” Her eyes flicked to CasCu’s, her tone was deceptively sweet. “Mind explaining that?”

Achilles stared at him, jaw swinging. “You went outside? Last night? The blizzard was insane last night!”

CasCu took another slurp of his tea and shrugged. “Bad dreams, so I went outside to have a smoke and clear my head.”

“CasCu, you don’t normally sleep.” Marie’s eyes were very sharp. Achilles’s eyes had grown sharp as well, like those of a predatory bird. CasCu swallowed hard and looked away.

“Well I did fall asleep last night, and in the library as well.” He tapped his finger against the table cloth restlessly. 

“And before last night? When was the last time you slept then?” 

He didn’t answer, she knew the number. One of her contacts would have been keeping track.

Achilles whistled. “Shit man, Nightingale will have your head if she finds out.”

“Servants don’t need sleep.” 

“Obviously they do if you look like that.”

“Achill -”

“CasCu.” Marie’s voice cut through his scathing retort like razor wire. Her blue eyes were narrowed, the cheer that normally ordained her face sharpened into determination. When she spoke next it was her Queen voice, the one that demanded obedience or answers “Why do you not sleep?” 

Because Archer was always waiting for him, hawk eyed, messy haired, furious and biting and sarcastic. Because Fuyuki was embedded in his mind, the flaming city, the enemies he had faced. He didn’t want Marie to know about those, and the same went for Achilles. Marie had arrived right before Rome, long after Singularity F had been solved. Achilles had arrived shortly after Rome, he didn’t know what had happened in that burning city either. But he owed them some answers at least, they were his friends, after all. Part of the truth then. He sighed. “My dreams bleed into Alter’s, and Cu’s, and Proto’s. Their dreams bleed into mind. I don’t want to know what they are dreaming about, and I don’t want them to see my dreams either. It’s easier to not sleep.”

“Well, you’re failing that.” Achilles noted.

Marie sighed, her voice soft when she spoke next. “CasCu, go to bed. Get some rest. They’re awake now, and they will be for a while yet. Take the chance to catch up on the sleep you missed.”

He scoffed. “Our meeting isn’t finished yet.”

“Hey,” Achilles shifted to slug him lightly in the arm, “Marie can send you her notes when we’re done. Get some rest man. Or I’ll tell Cu what you told me.”

CasCu bared his teeth at him, but if he argued, they would be suspicious. He groaned and stood. “Fine, I’ll get some rest.” He drained his tea, waved goodbye, and exited, plodding his slow way to his room.

He went through all the normal motions when he entered his room; lights on, book down, movie playing, coffee brewing. He dug out the smelling salts and gripped them tightly in his fist. He hadn’t used them in forever, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Despite what he’d told Marie and Achilles, he had no intention of sleeping, but he could at least stay in his room for a while and pretend to sleep. He cracked open the lid and wafted the salts under his nose. The scent was like a punch to the gut, painful and powerful. Just what he needed to wake up. 

He should have never put these away.

He finished brewing his coffee and made a cup. No sugar, no sweetener, he needed it strong and bitter. He drained half of it and set it down beside the smelling salts. With a groan, he rubbed his hands over his eyes. It was time to face another period of agonizing boredom and thwarted sleep. He sat, sagging back into the pillows and throwing his feet onto the other arm rest. Perhaps he should remove the pillows to make the couch less comfy. Maybe later, when he had to change the movie. He reached back and grabbed his book, flipping to the page he last remembered, and focusing on the typed words. After a few pages, he grabbed his coffee, nursing it in one hand and taking scalding sips occasionally.

He had his book, his coffee, his movie. The smelling salts were on the table for when he was feeling drowsy. The lights were on, bright and cheerful. And, just in case, he had algiz and eiwaz, protection and dream, written on his shoulder in marker, reapplied after his shower. He was ready to not sleep for as long as it took to convince Marie and Achilles he was well rested.

_ It is night again, and the stars span the cloud touched sky. He feels the arrow before it arrives. It is the prickle across the back of his neck, the way the hairs on his arms raise, he knows the sensation well. He is moving before the arrow can strike, riado burns against his fingertips. The arrow slams against the ground, a burst of rubble and dirt plumes up at the impact. Cu spins around, his staff falls into his hand, eyes darting around to find Archer’s hidey-hole. He doesn’t bother to cover his face. Archer has already seen it. _

_ “Found a safe zone Archer?” He calls, spinning his staff so the wood blurs as it arcs through the air. The fingers of his other hand sketch algiz against his side. _

_ Archer doesn’t reply, and Cu can’t feel him. He must be far away, far, far away. And still, he would have made that shot if Cu hadn’t felt it coming. How interesting. Despite the way Archer makes his blood boil, he can’t help but grin.  _

_ Another arrow, this time just a streak in the air, and then Cu is moving, straight towards it. Riado burns at his fingertips. Algiz is hot against his side. He ducks, and the arrow slips past him, striking the ground behind him. He can hear the impact, it bursts through his ears. He lets his staff disappear and leaps, tracing kaunaz as he goes. Fire bursts, sending him flying forwards, heat at his back. It’s a tricky thing, flying with fire, a jerky, time consuming thing, but it makes the city blur around him, and imagining Archer’s expression is worth it. _

_ Soon he hits a rooftop, rolling and popping up to his feet. It is one of the lower buildings, with a bad view of a city. He hadn’t trapped this one for a reason. It would be almost impossible to spy or shoot from here, and during the daytime there was too much traffic for traps. Yet still Archer had managed. Reluctantly, respect blooms in his gut. Bastard he may be, but the guy was a decent shot. _

_ Speaking of Archer . . . _

_ Cu straightens, staff falling back into his grip. His toes scuff against the rooftop as he glances around. He can’t feel Archer. There is no presence in the back of his mind, but he knows the shot had come from around this place, so where is Archer? _

_ Cu plants his staff against the ground and leans on it, running his hands through the wind caused tangles in his hair. His thumb brushes against his cheekbone, three lines, ansuz, for Odin the All Seeing. It had never sat well with him to use Norse runes instead of Irish, but they have their uses, and they are easy to cast in combat. And ansuz is always useful.  _

_ The world lights up around him. He can see the people on the streets, the ones inside buildings too. There is a shape in the shadows, burning with mana. Assassin. He should hunt him down, take him down, but another form changes his mind. Archer is close, four buildings down, and Cu can see the tip of his arrow, blazing bright. He grins, then slips to spirit form. The world goes from bright colors to shades of grey, but the mana is still painfully present. Cu smirks faintly and heads in Archer’s direction.  _

_ He hasn’t moved. His arrow still trains on the place Cu last stood. That will change when he gets closer, but that is fine. It’s a shame he can’t use all his tricks to end Archer’s life, somehow not doing so feels like cheating, but Assassin is watching. So silently, Cu jumps from building to building, until he stands on the top floor of the building Archer has claimed as his own. _

_ Archer senses his presence, his shoulders stiffen, his bow disappears, his swords fall into his grip. Cu is already coalescing, too close, staff headed towards Archer’s head. It nearly clips Archer as he ducks, whiffing through his white hair. His eyes are dark, there is a scowl on his face, as if annoyed his arrows haven’t found their mark. Cu takes pleasure in that scowl. No enemy of his should be bored during a fight. He slams down with his staff, forcing Archer to roll away instead of striking.  _

_ “Sniping now, kid? How boring.” He flicks kaunaz in Archer’s direction. He leaps to the side as the fire bursts, but Cu is already sending another his way. _

_ “I am not a kid.” Archer growls out at him. He’s making his way forwards, step by step, despite the flames Cu shoots in his direction. “You old goat!” _

_ Cu freezes in shock. He shouldn’t have, but he does. Yes, he is older than he’d used to be, but there is something about being called an old goat that makes his limbs lock up in surprise. Archer takes that advantage, sprinting forwards, and one blade knocks away Cu’s staff, the other goes for his chest. Cu snaps out of it, throwing a hand out, hagalaz appearing between them. The burst of air is enough to make Archer’s eyes widen and send him tumbling backwards. Cu musters up all the indignation he can and spits out. “I am not old!” _

_ Archer stumbles to his feet, eyes gleaming with anger. “Bullshit.” _

_ Cu’s mouth snaps open of his own accord, and Archer smirks. He shuts it quickly. Shit, he’s acting with his anger and bloodlust, not with his brains. He allows his own smirk to stretch across his face. “Sure it is brat.”  _

_ Gebo is a nice feeling, warm as he traces it against his palm. He lunges at Archer with his staff, keeping the glowing splinter of light hidden. Archer’s face twists. “Fight like a Caster damn you!” His swords yank Cu’s staff from his hands, bite into his side. It is just enough time for gebo to bloom into full. Cu brings the spear around and slams the shaft into Archer’s arms, pushing them out and away. He spins the spear, Archer’s arms twist, his swords clatter to the ground and disappear.  _

_ It is not Gae Bolg, but damn if it doesn't feel nice to wield a spear again.  _

_ He slams gebo into Archer’s side, and the man is too shocked to do anything but take it. His face is rapidly morphing into something blank again, and Cu hates it. So he spins gebo again and jams the tip into Archer’s shoulder, but the shock has ebbed out. Archer lunges to the side and gebo’s tip slices past his skin. Blood flies through the air. Cu grins at the sight. “How about you fight like an Archer? Oh wait, that wasn’t working out for you, was it?” _

_ Archer growls, and suddenly his swords are in his hands again. One slams against gebo, knocks it away. He spins into the attack even as Cu steps back, the black blade whizzing past his throat. His foot hits Archer’s leg, the man barely registers the attack. His runes are fading, gebo is petering out. As lovely as it is, it guzzles mana. So he sets it on fire. _

_ Archer curses, leaping away as Cu chases him with his flaming spear. Gebo cracks against Archer’s swords. They shatter, but more fall into Archer’s hands. How odd, and those blades, he recognizes them from somewhere. He tucks that away for another time, Archer spins under his strike and draws twin gashes along his chest. Cu lets gebo fade away and blasts kaunaz at Archer’s face. This time he’s not fast enough to avoid it all and part of him is caught by the edge of the flames. He doesn’t scream, just grunts and takes it. His eyes are furious. Cu can feel the same emotion bubbling through him. Assassin is watching, he is giving too much away, but he refuses to run away again. _

“Caster,”  _ his Master’s voice. It appears in his mind, sharp and sudden,  _ “Get back here, now.”

_ He falls back, waiting for Archer to follow, but he doesn’t. His head is cocked, his eyes shadowed.  _ “What is it?”

“Something’s happening, something big.”  _ Her voice shakes slightly.  _ “Get back here as soon as you can.”

“I’m on my way.”  _ He steps into spirit form and runs, half expecting Archer to take the opportunity to strike. He doesn’t, and when Cu looks back, he can see Archer fleeing in the opposite direction. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CasCu v sleep continues. So it begins. CasCu is basically that one scene from spiderman into the spiderverse, you know the one I’m talking about. Hector is the chill friend. Tomoe has a brain cell. The Cu’s play cards. Alter has the second brain cell. One by one they all fall down!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey ya'll! First off I would like to thank you all for your comments and kudos! You peeps are absolutely amazing! Second off, I would like to say . . . I hope you all enjoy this chapter and have a wonderful day!

CasCu jerked awake with a gasp, tumbling off the couch and striking the floor, hard. Pain flared, his vision seared white, and for a moment he just lay there, face pressed against metal, book digging into his stomach, sleep already lapping at his conscience again. No. No. He groaned and shoved himself up, sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth. The tv was playing music, the menu flashed with colorful scenes. Carefully he sat back on his heels and reached up to touch his nose. His fingers came back red. 

“Defuckinglightful,” he rasped out.

He stood, swaying, and stumbled to the bathroom, flipped on the lights. The man that looked out of the mirror was a worse mess than yesterday. His hair was a rats nest, mice could sleep in the shadows beneath his bloodshot eyes. His skin had an odd grey tinge that suggested a recent acquaintance with a brush of death. Blood trickled from one nostril, he could taste the iron on his tongue. 

With a growl, he grabbed paper towels and got to work stopping his nose bleed. His mind was swirling, over and over, the battle, his Master’s words, again and again and again. It was the beginning of the end, and he didn’t want to see it all crash and burn. Again. He needed to clear his head, drive the dreams away. But Marie’s spies haunted the halls, there was no way he could get outside without them noticing his exit. And if Marie found out . . . well, she’d make him sleep in her room. With a full guard. And no one stopped Marie when she wanted something to happen.

He sighed. What time was it? Perhaps he would be lucky, and it would be dinner time. He could go eat, then split, and shiver in the cold till morning. He rubbed his face with the palm of his hand. There was a hammer beating a tattoo on the inside of his head. He’d grab a cup of water first.

It was the middle of the fucking night. CasCu stared at the clock in dismay, cup in hand, still in his Hawaiian shirt and leather pants from yesterday. There went his excuse. There went his chance to escape. He was stuck here until the morning. 

Fucking hell. 

With a growl, he drained his water, and began brewing another cup of coffee. The movie got switched out for another, he didn’t even bother to look at the title. The couch’s cushions were tossed onto the bed. He snapped his book shut, he only had two chapters left, and slammed it onto the coffee table. A third of the smelling salts got upturned into a bowl, and he filled that with water, dropping a towel in it and letting it soak. 

Brushing his hair while he waited helped calm him at least. With each tug, his breathing eased from panicked fluttering into something more normal. His mind started working again. He needed to see someone about this. His runes no longer cut it, his techniques no longer cut it. He needed outside help. Nightingale would be the best, although there were risks. He could talk to other Casters too, see what they had that kept people awake or fought off dreams. But he couldn’t do that tom - today, he had too many plans. 

His coffee beeped. With a groan, he stood, shaking out his hair and placing his brush on the table. One steaming hot cup of coffee drained later, he walked back to the couch with the smelling salt soaked towel wrapped around his head. The scent of ammonia permeated his brain, powerful, painful, thought jarring. It felt as if fire had been shoved up his nostrils.

He grinned under his mask and sat down. Beneath him, the couch was hard and unyielding, the edges cut into the backs of his knees. This time, this time he wouldn’t sleep. He didn’t care if he looked like death warmed over come morning, he had makeup in his cabinets to fix that, but he refused to sleep again. He refused to see Archer again. That man would stay in the past, where he belonged.

_ When he gets to his Master’s side, she is pacing, her feet wearing a tread in the floor. “What is it, Master?” _

_ She stops, spinning around to face him. “Caster,” there is a note of relief in her voice, but it is hidden beneath the worry, “When was the last time you checked the ley lines of this city?” _

_ For a moment he can only stare at her. His wounds from his battle with Archer are still weeping blood. His mana is low, he needs time to recuperate. Assassin has seen a great many of his tricks, and so has Archer. He doubts it is enough to reveal his name, but it is definitely enough to bring them closer. But his Master stands there, panicking not about all this, but about the ley lines. “A couple of days,” he admits. _

_ “Check them.” _

_ He nods and crouches, pressing his fingers against the floor. He can feel the magic in the ground, the thrum of it, the pulse and pull. It feels like a heartbeat beneath his fingertips. He follows it down, down into the deep dark, winding beneath the streets of the city. It pools and ebbs in three places, pressing like water against his skin. Then, like a jolt, he feels it. A spark of cold in the energy, slow and sluggish and sick. It is coming from one of the pools. He shies away from its touch and retreats back into his own skin. _

_ “There’s something wrong with the ley lines.” _

_ His Master nods. “Corrupted, somehow.” She spins around to face the map of the city. She’s marked out one spot with a dark marker. It’s in the woods, he thinks there might be a clearing there. He vaguely remembers finding a clearing in the woods one day while scouting. She jabs at the spot with a finger. “That leypool wasn’t originally stationed there.” _

_ His gut drops. _

_ She drags her finger across the paper and lets it rest at Ryudo Temple. “It was here originally. Somehow it's moved. So what can move a leypool?” There is fear in her voice, turning her steel brittle. _

_ CasCu stands, wiping his fingers on his robe. He doesn’t like the idea of that leyline’s corruption spreading to him. “I don’t know, but -” _

_ Something happens. He’s not sure how to describe it. Like reality snaps out of place then back into it. The room glitches. Beneath his feet, the sickness surges through the ground. He feels it like it sluices through his own limbs, sludge like and slow. Then the world settles, and it is the same except for three things. _

_ His Master is gone. _

_ Smoke hangs thick in the air. _

_ And the ground is sick. _

_ For a moment he stands there, head splitting, disbelief painting his face. Then he turns and runs outside. Sulfur scrapes the back of his mouth. The air has that tang to it, almost acidic. Between one moment and the next, he is in the road, skidding to a halt to stare at the world around him. It is not the world he’d known before. The buildings stand empty, the few people who had been wandering the streets are gone, nothing alive moves. The sky has been painted black, and there is a ring in that darkness, vivid red, spilling its haze across the scene.  _

_ “What in Lugh’s name?” _

_ He’s too confused to panic, but he couldn’t anyway. He doesn’t know what’s happened but he knows panic will not help. He twirls around, dashing ansuz across his forehead. The city is dark, truly dark. There is nothing living. But something is approaching him, a bundle of mana, the only light in the nothingness. Assassin. Cu knows that shape. He stands there and waits, staff in hand, his hood tugged over his face. _

_ Assassin appears, skull mask gleaming faintly. “Caster,” his voice is a rasp, accusatory, “what did you do?” _

_ Cu draws himself up. “I didn’t do this.” _

_ Assassin cocks his head, and Cu doesn’t know if he’s about to argue or question. Instead, he leaves, a shadow against the ground as he races off. Cu glances around, then, with a curse, follows him.  _

_ Assassin stops at the edge of the city, and in numb despair Cu can see that everyone is already there. Berserker stands in the middle of the road leading out to the forest, a hulking mass of muscle. Beside him stands Rider, much smaller, but with the presence of a commander. On Berserker's other side stands Saber. Where Rider holds herself like royalty, Saber is a knight with a king's bearings. Even in the red light, her gold hair glows like a crown. Assassin disappears, into the maze of buildings at their back. Lancer leans against a lamppost, her purple hair brushing the ground, hood pulled low over her eyes.  _

_ Archer is there as well. His fingers twitch. His gaze is locked onto Saber’s small form. “What happened?” There is a roughness to his voice that Cu can’t name. _

_ Saber tilts her head up. “Can you feel it?” _

_ Cu kicks the ground. “Yeah, I can. Something’s twisted all the leylines out of whack. Took my Master too.” He glances around, “Yet something’s still supplying me with mana. Same thing happen to everyone else?” There is no answer, so he decides he must be right. “I don’t know if you got this too, but we’re the only things living in this city.”  _

_ Archer scoffs. “We aren’t even living, dumbass.” _

_ Cu grits his teeth in his direction, but Saber speaks over him. “The Grail. The Grail must be supporting us.” _

_ Rider crosses her arms, her red hair shifting as she tilts her head. “No one has died. The Grail can’t have manifested yet.” _

_ Lancer laughs. Her voice hisses like a thousand snakes. “When the gods are involved, nothing is impossible. He knows.” She points at Berserker, and he growls in agreement. _

_ Cu can’t help but roll his eyes. “This is no longer the Time of Gods. True Magic can’t perform miracles anymore.”  _

_ Lancer bares her teeth in his direction. She has fangs, they gleam white beneath her hood. _

_ “There is a Grail.” Assassin appears, stepping out of the shadows into the hazy light. “There’s a cave, it wasn’t there before. But the grail is there. And there’s something coming out of it.” He flinches. _

_ “Poisoned, that’s my guess.” Cu shrugs, “It might not be a good idea to go near it.” _

_ “So what should we do?” Rider taps her chin in thought. Saber is silent, too silent. Her face is hidden behind her gold hair.  _

_ Archer jerks his head up, his amber eyes flashing. “The trees are falling.” Cu feels it too, a slight rumble through the ground. Archer takes a step back. His bow falls into his grip. “Something’s coming.” _

_ Cu wants to stare at him, to ask something, anything, but he doesn’t have the chance. Saber steps forwards, past Berserker. He can see her eyes now, they flash blue and green in the hazy light. “I need you all to leave.” She says it softly, but her words carry. Each step forward is light and measured, the pace of a warrior.  _

_ Lancer doesn’t hesitate, she is gone in a flash. Assassin is just as quick. In seconds it is just him, Rider, Berserker, Archer, and the woman stepping forwards towards the woods. There is a roar in the air now, he can feel the reverberation in his bones. _

_ Archer steps forwards, “Saber, what are you doing?” His voice is uncertain. _

_ In Saber’s hands, her sword blazes bright, revealed for the first time. It is a shaft of light in her grip, gilding her silver armor gold. Flecks rise from the ground, darting in the air around her. “Rider,” she says, “If what I suspect is coming, then you and Berserker need to leave. Now. Get to high ground. Archer,” Her voice falters. Her eyes snap to Cu. “Caster, get him out of here.” Then she is running, towards the woods, a blaze of light trailed by glowing motes. With each step her sword burns brighter. She is a falling star, a comet of power, and all they can do is get out of her way. _

_ Rider understands, in a second she is in her chariot and gone, Berserker following behind. Archer, the numbskull, is blind. He stands there, jaw gaping, eyes wide. Then he explodes into movement, lunging forwards. “Artoria don’t do this!” _

_ Cu doesn’t give him a chance. Riado and ingwaz burn against his skin. He hits Archer in the side, sending them both sprawling. Archer fights, his fists and elbows dig into Cu’s side, and each impact hurts like hell. With a curse, he bundles Archer over his shoulder, trapping his arms and legs so all that he can do is wiggle. Archer is cussing him out, a long string of meaningless gibberish carrying potent venom. Cu ignores it and starts running.  _

_ “Let me go!” Archer’s voice is desperate, wild and rising. _

_ Cu grits his teeth. “Stop it brat. You can only get in her way.” _

_ Archer howls, a sound full of choked off fury and fear. He starts struggling again, and his elbow clips Cu’s ear, nearly sending him sprawling. He swears. There is no time for Archer’s tantrum. His Master and all the other humans in this city are gone. The world is sick. The grail is corrupted. And Saber has most likely sacrificed herself to destroy it so they would be safe. He is not dumb, and he admires her bravery, but he doesn’t want to deal with Archer’s breakdown on top of it. This isn’t the fucking time. He jostles Archer and traces eiwaz against his squirming leg.  _

_ For a moment the rune doesn’t work. Magic resistance, of course. But then the man collapses and Cu is able to carry him through the city, through the skeleton structures, up and up till he is in the top floor of some office building. The cubicles are empty, the chairs abandoned. Shadows lie thickly in the corners of the room. Cu props Archer against the wall and peers out the window.  _

_ There is a blaze of light on the horizon, golden and burning. It spills across the sky with a blazing fervor. It is like drinkable sunlight, and just the sight of it gives him hope. Certainly Saber can’t fall, not with that golden light marking her presence. She will do whatever needs to be done, and things will return to their correct place. The world will go back to normal, and even if they all disappeared it would be worth it. The light explodes, a tower pillar of glowing gold, motes spinning around its edges. A light in the dark. A beacon of power. Hope and the promise of victory. _

_ Then it cuts out. The world goes dark again. Cu can just make out something crest the trees and crash through the woods, leaving fires in its wake. It slurps and sludges its way towards the city, like dark lava or mud. It leaves black marks against the buildings, brings down more than a few. Corruption follows in its wake. He feels his heart slow, his stomach drop. His mind reels at the sight and the realization. Saber has failed, he knows that for certain. He watches the mud like substance blanket the city, safe, far above the streets in his building. _

_ It takes a long time for the mud to drain away, and the end result is a city in ruin. Fires light at the corners of every street, casting a haze of smoke onto the horizon. The light is oddly diluted, purple in places and red in others. A good portion of the buildings around him have collapsed. Embers smolder between the stones. The woods are a burnt wasteland. Something moves through the streets. They are not human. Skeleton creatures, formed of grey bone. _

_ He watches it all, waiting for the mud to clear fully before leaving the unconscious Archer alone. _

CasCu almost clawed out his hair upon awakening. His makeshift mask was plastered against his face, his nostrils and mouth felt burnt. With a growl he yanked it off and tossed it across the room. It slapped against the wall and hung there before peeling off to strike wetly against the floor. He pressed his elbows against his knees, digging his fingers into his hair until they scraped against his scalp. Each breath rasped against his throat. His eyes burned hotly. His head felt like it was swimming in molasses, thoughts too slow.

With a gasp, he pressed his wrist against his teeth. His shoulders were shaking. Fucking shaking. Lugh damn it. There was no reason to cry. But that city was imprinted in his mind, Saber’s last moments played before his eyes. He’d barely known her before coming to Chaldea, yet her sacrifice still weighed heavily on his shoulders. And his Master, hell, he had liked his Master. She was strong, capable, and in the end wiped out like everyone else in that fucking city. By Lugh, and after this, after the grail’s mud left its mark on the city, then - 

He pushed himself and stumbled to the bathroom, yanking the shower open and twisting the knob till the water was freezing, stumbling inside and gasping as it struck his skin. Icy needles jabbed into his face and arms and neck. In seconds he was wet and shivering, his clothes plastered to his skin. With shaking fingers he peeled them off. And if he cried, his tears were lost down the drain.

Today was funny shirt day, but it was a cold comfort to put his on. With that dream stuck in his mind, he couldn’t find humor in his shirt, which proclaimed, I THOUGHT GROWING OLD WOULD TAKE LONGER. He stayed in the bathroom for a long time after his shower, thoroughly brushing his hair free of tangles and drying it with a few runes before digging out his makeup kit. It was dusty and unused, shoved to the very back of his supply cabinet. The hinges creaked when he opened it. The supplies within had probably gone bad, dried up or clotted or whatever makeup did when it spoiled. He ignored all that and focused on wiping away the evidence of last night’s troubles.

He was lateish. By the time he had arrived, the cafeteria had already filled up with people, clamoring and talking one over another. The sound beat against his aching head, and with a sigh, he pushed past it, trudging wearily to his table. Proto wasn’t there, today was his Rayshift, and CasCu couldn’t help but be horribly glad that Proto’s cheer wouldn’t be in front of him for a while. It left him with only one overly cheerful Lancer to deal with. Cu had made him a plate and a drink again, and with a twinge of despair, CasCu noted that it was only water. Alter sat beside his spot, tail lashing. He turned as Cas Cu approached, their gazes met. He knew. CasCu had seen that look enough times to know when his dream had spilled over.

Fuck.

He shoved a grin on his face and sat. “You two are looking chipper.” His voice was a rasp, his throat hurt with each word. 

Cu grinned at him, cheerful and eager. His shirt proclaimed A DAY WITHOUT FISHING PROBABLY WON’T KILL ME BUT WHY TAKE THE CHANCE? “We’re filming today.” He said, digging into his own meal.

Alter simply grunted. His brows were furrowed. His own shirt carried the message I DIDN’T MEAN TO PUSH ALL YOUR BUTTONS. I WAS JUST LOOKING FOR MUTE. For a moment, CasCu was tempted to ask the Berserker whether or not Edgemiya had stood him up last night, but he decided not to. He wasn’t in the mood to poke fun at his other selves.

Cu sat. “Delightful. I can’t wait to see how it goes.” He drained his cup of water, wishing fervently for coffee, then began to eat. Slowly and methodically, one bit at a time. He let Cu’s excited prattling wash over him, listened to Alter’s occasional grunts and comments, and added a few of his own. He let the normality ground him. He was here, in Chaldea. Not there, with the grail’s mud burning the streets and Archer’s unconscious body near him. Here, not there.

Here.

Not there.

In the halls, D’eon found him. The Saber, dressed in a shirt that said WHILE YOU WERE BUSY CONFORMING TO GENDER NORMS, I STUDIED THE BLADE, passed him a large stack of papers, and murmured a soft “Good morning”. CasCu forced a cheerful grin in her direction and a chipper greeting in return, but he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. D’eon was a trained spy, she could peer through masks as easily as if she could cut them in half with her blade. No doubt she was noting his concealer and moisturizer, his other pathetic attempts to hide his exhaustion. She didn’t say anything though, just nodded and continued on her way. 

To Marie, probably. He couldn’t blame her, but he shivered at the thought of Marie finding out he hadn’t really slept last night. He could already imagine her nose wrinkling up in annoyance, her blue eyes flashing in frustration. She would stand on her tiptoes and say a few words, then all that aggravation would be tucked away behind a cheerful mask. And then before he knew it, he would be passed out for a week somewhere, and he would wake up to Marie’s cheerful voice asking if he was feeling better. 

He would have to find a way to get her off his back.

But that could come later. He clutched the papers under his arm and headed off to the entertainment rooms. 

Gossip, if anyone had known him from his past life, they would have never have guessed. But in that first month after his summons, when the dreams were coming thick and fast, and every glimpse of Emiya sent him spiraling back to Fuyuki, it had been a safe zone of sorts. Focusing on other people’s drama was so much better than facing his own, and in some ways it helped. If he knew who was friendly with whom and who hated whom, he could help Gudao with Rayshift groups, suggest who to pick. Gudao had needed his advice less and less as time went on, growing into his role as Master, but the hobby of searching for gossip stuck. Still, it was just that, a hobby. He had used it to tease Proto a bit, to distract him from Emiya and the dreams of the past. A hobby and a distraction, nothing more, nothing less.

Then Marie had come, swirling in with her infectious cheer, D’eon and Sanson and Motzart by her side. By then Gudao hadn’t needed his advice as much, by then he had begun to let his habit slide, but with Marie came competition. It wasn’t an official rivalry, but it was one, and it was nice to have competition in something that wasn’t battle. He could never stand up to Marie’s sheer information gathering techniques, nor her friendliness and ease of talking too, but he could do something she couldn’t. He could step into a room without drawing all the attention to himself. He could use his runes to listen in on conversations half across Chaldea. He could be forgotten, no master of magecraft, no king or queen, no charismatic personality, no demigod with his spear, just another Heroic Spirit, a bit tired, a bit old, a bit forgettable. 

Marie had probably been his first full friend in Chaldea. There were others he hung out with or talked to, but Marie had been the one to decide his nose for gossip could not be ignored, dragged him into her tea times, and cemented him as part of her circle. He didn’t mind. Marie’s version of cheer was infectious, and the amount of information she dredged up in the span of a day was mind blowing. She made it easier to forget Fuyuki, easier to put it out of his mind for a few hours, and for that he was thankful. 

Now, if only she could stop fretting over his lack of sleep. 

He groaned. That would be nice, but it was unrealistic. Marie cared about her friends, and she wasn’t going to let him ruin himself over some dumb dreams. He’d have to figure out how to dodge her machinations later. For now, he had last night's gossip to read. 

Hector was a breath of fresh air compared to most of his other companions. Laid back, lazy, lacking the insatiable need for gossip or excitable temperaments or bloodlust his other acquaintances had. But best of all, Hector didn’t pry. He wouldn’t look at CasCu’s sleep deprived face and ask what was wrong. He would take it in stride and wait for CasCu to tell him what had happened.

Which he wouldn’t, but that was beside the point.

He stepped into the entertainment room, sighing heavily at the sound of battle. Not a real life battle, but a video game battle, complete with cheesy sound track and “hiyas!” Hector was in a reclining chair, feet up, arms behind his back, staring lazily at the confrontation on screen. His shirt read WILDLY UNPREPARED FOR THE DAY AHEAD in dark green letters across the grey expanse, which fit with his half asleep appearance. CasCu knew better. He could see Hector’s eyes flitting beneath his lids, tracking the battle on screen. 

“Who’s winning?”

Hector glanced at him and grinned lazily. “Who do you think?”

CasCu glanced at the couch’s occupants. One was a hulking mass of muscle, the other was smaller and slimmer with lighter hair. Iskandar, the most recent arrival, crouched over his tv remote, fingers tapping relentlessly on his controller, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Tomoe, on the other hand, seemed completely calm. Each movement she made was graceful and sure, but her eyes blazed bright, the white pupils glowing against the red.

“Not even a competition, is it?”

“I’ll give it to the Greek, he’s given her a good fight so far.”

CasCu snorted and moved one of the chairs over to sit by Hector's side. From this angle he could just make out the message of Tomoe’s shirt, dark red against the white, I PAUSED MY GAME TO BE HERE - YOU’RE WELCOME. Iskandar’s was completely covered by his bulky arm, but it looked as if it was the inverse of Tomoe’s. The base was red at least. 

CasCu shook his head and spread out Marie’s paper’s on his knee. There were at least ten, held together by a sparkly pink paperclip. He thumbed through them and sighed. Really, Marie’s spy network could not be competed with. “Perhaps with time, he’ll be able to give her a proper challenge.”

“Maybe.” Hector yawned. He turned his head to the side, glancing at CasCu’s papers. With an amused huff, he said, “Do I even want to know?”

CasCu smirked at him. “Only if you have something to add.”

Hector clicked his tongue. “Nope.” He went back to watching Tomoe obliterate Iskandar at the video game.

CasCu took a moment to press his palms against his eyes. They hurt, as if he had kept them open for far too long. He resisted the urge to let them flutter shut, just for a moment, just for some rest. Instead, he picked up the sheaf of papers and began to read. 

Thank Lugh for gossip.

Iskandar called it quits around lunchtime. CasCu watched the Rider stand and stretch, his shirt clinging dangerously to his chest. Finally the message was revealed. In large white letters his shirt proclaimed I FLEXED AND THE SLEEVES FELL OFF. CasCu snorted slightly, Gudao must have been scraping the bottom of the barrel if that was all he could come up with. He didn’t blame him, with so many Servants at Chaldea, Gudao was bound to run out of ideas eventually.

“That was glorious!” Iskandar roared, grinning down at Tomoe. “Your strategies, woman, are excellent! If we weren’t serving the same Master, I would have offered you a place in my army! It would be a waste to see your talent pine away without being put to good use.”

Tomoe ducked her head, then stood, the game controls hanging in her grip. She barely came up to Iskandar’s chest, and had to tip back her head to stare him in the eye. CasCu kicked Hector awake, then jerked his head in the other two’s direction. Hector opened one lazy eye, and sighed heavily. “Thank you,” Tomoe said in that soft voice of hers, “I appreciate your evaluation of my skills.” She paused for a second. “Your wish for the grail is to have the chance to conquer the world, correct?”

Iskandar let out a booming laugh. “Indeed! I will march upon this land again and claim it for my own!”

“Well then, it would seem our ideals cross.” Tomoe’s voice was hard now, the steel beneath the silk revealed, “For if you were to try to conquer the world, then I would be reunited with Lord Yoshinaka, and we would then be enemies. Pray that this does not happen, Lord Iskandar, and be thankful that we serve the same Master.” 

Once again, Iskandar laughed. “Oh, to have a warrior like you among my ranks, but very well. I applaud your loyalty to your lord.” He leapt over the couch, his shoes thudding against the metal floors. “Hector! My friend! Let us partake in feasting, and you can tell me all the stories of Troy you have!”

Hector groaned, then glanced in Cu’s direction.  _ “Help.” _

_ “No.”  _ CasCu flipped through the pages of Marie’s gossip, skimming through the words once again. The typed print was D’eon’s report, the looping words in sparkly pink gel pen were Marie’s notes from last night's meeting. By Lugh, he wished he had been there, he could have shot down some of these wilder ideas with ease. But no, he’d been fighting and failing to stay awake, and even now sleep tugged at the edges of his brain.

“CasCu!” Iskandar’s boisterous voice cut through his drifting thoughts. He glanced up. The Rider had managed to drag Hector out of his seat, and now the Lancer slumped beside him, obviously having given up. Iskandar was grinning. “Join us for lunch, why don’t you?”

For a moment, CasCu considered it. Iskandar was certainly energetic enough to be a distraction, but somehow he didn’t feel up to it. He shook his head. “I’ll have to pass today. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Suit yourself!” With another laugh, he exited the room, Hector in tow.

CasCu rolled his head and groaned, staring up at the ceiling. Tomoe chuckled softly. “Exhausting fellow, isn’t he?”

“Too loud.”

“Considering the company you normally keep.”

“My other selves aren’t that loud.”

“Of course not. Would you like to play a round or two?”

CasCu looked at her. She sat on the edge of the couch, holding out Iskandar’s abandoned controller. He stared at it, stared at the papers in his hand, then stared back at the controller. With a sigh he pushed himself up and walked over. “I guess I could go a few rounds.” He snatched the controller from her fingers and sat. “What are we playing?”

She told him the name. He selected his avatar and they began to play. It was almost comfortable, there was no need for words between them. There was just the game and the fact that Tomoe won every round. And that was fine. He didn’t know Tomoe very well, she had no reason to pry into his life. 

Actually . . . “Do you have any games you could spare?”

She sent him a glance. “I do have a few. What type are you looking for?”

“Story type ones. Ones that can last me a whole night if need be.”

“If you’re looking for ones that pass time, then any fighting game is good. They are the ones I use the most.” 

He froze up, fingers pausing over his buttons. On screen Tomoe got a critical hit, his health bar dropped dramatically. “You,” he worked his jaw, “you don’t sleep either?”

“I think a lot of the Heroic Spirits here don’t sleep.” She said softly. “Many of us have memories and wars we don’t want to relive, or even risk seeing again. But most try to sleep at least, maybe once every week? I try to get at least one full night's sleep per month. It helps with the strain.”

CasCu winced. He felt like an idiot. All this time he could have just slept a night per month and he wouldn’t be struggling now. But the thought of subjecting himself to one full night of those dreams . . . No. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t. He groaned and watched the screen light up red as his person died. “Still, you have a game that might fit?”

Tomoe nodded slowly. “I’ve heard of a few, but I’ll have to ask Gudao for them.”

He sighed. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

It was almost funny, hoping from one entertainment room to another. Lunch was over, and now it was time to deal with his other selves again, but instead of over food, it would be over cards. Proto was back as well, flush with battle and time spent with his boyfriend. His shirt proclaimed a cheery I DON’T CARE WHO DIES IN A MOVIE AS LONG AS THE DOG LIVES. He jittered in his seat like a spastic squirrel. Stories from his Rayshift spilled from his lips without stopping. Once upon a time, CasCu had to pry his day’s event from Proto, had to rely on what Jack discovered to know what had been going on between his younger self and Fuuma. Now though, Proto would not shut up for anything.

CasCu was tired of hearing about how fun Rayshift had been. He was tired of walking into Proto’s room and seeing him curled up with Fuuma cuddling and reading and watching movies and just enjoying each other's company. He was glad for his younger self, sure, but it was like watching Cu and Emiya when they’d been reunited all over again. It just made him feel tight and uncomfortable . . . happy that they were happy, but pained because his mind would decide to be stupid and pull Archer up before his eyes.

Not that he had cared for Archer. Not like that. Not really. But at the same time . . . he didn’t know. And he was fine with not knowing.

At least Alter was lowkey with his relationship. CasCu wasn’t sure he could take another lovey dovey couple around Chaldea.

He groaned and stared at his hand of cards. An ace, two twos, a five, a nine, a ten, and a queen. None of them matched up to each other. The ace and five were spades. The two and nine were hearts. The other two and the ten were clubs. The queen was a diamond. It was what Gudao would call a flubadubadub in every sense of the word.

Cu’s own sigh of horror cut through Proto’s prattling. “I’m tired of E rank luck.” He groaned out. They’d barely played two rounds but Cu’s face was already pained. “Can’t we just play like, Go Fish or something?”

“You want to subject us to Go Fish? You’re crazy Cu.” CasCu drawled. 

Proto tipped his head back. “Do you think Kotarou would like to go fishing?” He asked dreamily. “We’re almost through with the Pseudo-Singularities. Maybe after that, I could take him fishing. I think he would like it.” 

“You know, Emiya’s picked up a book about cooking fish. I keep on telling him that he doesn’t need another cookbook bu -”

Alter growled, drawing his card and slapping one down on the discard pile.  _ “CasCu we need to talk.” _

Proto picked up his next card, listening to Cu’s chattering with gleaming eyes. CasCu let Cu’s words fade into the background and focused on Alter's growl.  _ “How about we don’t talk but we say we did anyway.” _ Proto laid down a two, three, four, and set another card down. CasCu’s heart leapt at the sight. Spades. Thank Lugh.

_ “Absolutely not.” _ Alter’s snapped. Cu was taking forever on his turn, hemming and hawing over which card to throw away. CasCu waited impatiently. He had the chance to dump this ace. He hated carrying aces.  _ “I got leakage last night.” _

CasCu froze. He’d known, but he had hoped Alter wouldn’t bring it up. He waited numbly as Cu played his card, choosing his words carefully, rolling them over and over in his mind. He drew from the stack, barely registering the five of diamonds. Carefully he set down the ace and five of spades, then tossed away his queen.  _ “I’m sorry about that.”  _ He said finally.  _ “I’ll strive to make sure it won’t happen again.” _

Alter bared his teeth.  _ “That’s what we need to talk about.” _

_ “There’s nothing to talk about.” _

_ “Yes, there is.” _

“Are you two okay?” Proto asked, eyes wide. 

CasCu jerked out of his mental argument and smiled. “Of course we are! Now watch out, brat. Your five point lead is about to be demolished.” He ignored Alter’s glare. It didn’t matter. And whatever Alter wanted to say didn’t matter. By tomorrow, CasCu would have everything under control. He just had to stay awake until then.

Proto was out the door before any of them, Cu right on his heels. CasCu attempted to blaze through as well, but Alter was too fast. He hauled the other back, claws digging into his shoulder. “Sit.” It wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order from the Mad King.

CasCu spun around and shoved Alter’s hand off his shoulder. “No.” 

Alter’s eyes were blazing, dangerously bright. Out of all of them, his eyes glowed the brightest, especially when angry. He was angry now, CasCu could tell. It was written in his bared teeth, the stiff jaw and his furrowed brows. Furious. It was rare to see him furious around anyone else, but CasCu knew his buttons like he knew his own. He didn’t, however, understand why Alter was furious now. He’d disobeyed his order, but that was common. Alter had long since gotten used to disobeyed orders from his other selves. 

“You’re being dumb again.” 

Oh. 

CasCu huffed in his direction and dragged his fingers through his hair. He caught a knot and pulled the lock over his shoulder, working through the tangle. “I already apologized for last night.” He said carefully. “It won’t happen again.”

“I don’t care about the leakage.” Alter hissed. His tail swiped from side to side, and CasCu watched its process instead of meeting Alter’s gaze. “I am worried about you.”

CasCu froze. “I’m fine,” he said through numb lips.

Alter snorted. “No, you aren’t. Your lack of sleep is making you short sighted. I heard that you nearly messed up big time in your dayshift a few days ago. How will you be in five days? I am not going to let you risk your life and Gudao’s life just because you refuse to sleep.”

CasCu let his fingers drop from his hair. “I refuse,” he said slowly, “to let Cu see what happened in that war.”

“He is going to see it sooner or later, so just tell him now.”

“And I refuse to go through . . . all that again!” He snapped. Alter didn’t budge. His eyes were hard. CasCu sucked in a harsh breath between his teeth. “You’ve had enough leakage to know what happens after . . . that. After Saber dies. You know. I am not going to go through that again.”

Alter remained unfazed. “So sleep in one of our rooms. We both know having someone else there helps with the dreams.” 

“What?” CasCu tossed his hands up. “Prance into Cu and Emiya’s room and say ‘Hey can I sleep here tonight? Nothing weird, I just need to stop having dreams. No, I can’t tell you what the dreams are about. Stop asking.’ Step into Proto’s room and catch him and Fuuma snuggling? You heard him today, he’s fucking ecstatic that he’s finally managed to get Fuuma to sleep for longer than three hours without waking up from his own dreams. Or his room will be empty and he’ll be with Fuuma! How about you? You who've been having Edgemiya in more and more sense Christmas.” He closed his eyes and took a few breaths, wrestling his voice under control. “I am not going to interrupt your lives with my own baggage.”

Alter stared at him, and CasCu jerked his eyes to stare at the wall. By Lugh, it had been a while since he just snapped like that. He felt like he was walking on a tightrope, pools of acid to either side. It was stupid, really, really fucking stupid that he felt lonely. Or, hell, bitter. But that was fine. He could deal with being lonely and bitter. 

“You’re sleeping in my room tonight.”

What.

“Or at least you are staying in my room tonight.” Alter wasn’t looking at him. He too stared at the walls as if they held the secret to life. “Grab a few movies, some books or whatever. Whatever you normally use to keep yourself awake. My tv isn’t as good as yours, but it should do the trick.”

CasCu slowly turned his gaze to stare at him. “You don’t have a tv.”

Alter still didn’t meet his eyes. “I won’t wake you up if you do fall asleep, but I won’t make you go to sleep either.” 

“But what about Edgemiya?”

Alter’s eyes flicked to his. The tips of his ears were red. “What about him.”

“He was sleeping in your room, wasn’t he?”

Alter made some noise in his throat, low and loud and rumbling. “I’ll tell him to crash somewhere else. Come on, I’m not going to miss dinner.” He shouldered past Cu, tail slashing through the air wildly. For a while CasCu just stared at the space where Alter had stood, but slowly, he began to grin. 

He could actually look to see if Edgemiya being in Alter’s room had been a one night thing or something else entirely. 

Take that sleep. The much more enticing mystery of Alter’s love life had raised its head. There was absolutely no way he was going to sleep tonight. 

“Stop poking around things.” Alter growled.

CasCu poked the large wall mirror that hung over a table that had a lot more clutter than it had carried the last time CasCu had been in Alter’s room. The tv was new too, if not as up to date as most of the tvs in Chaldea. It was probably something Alter had pulled in from storage. “I didn’t know you had a mirror.” He commented, plucking what looked like a bullet from the clutter. It had a hole. And a chain. “Is this a bullet necklace? Did Edgemiya give it to you?”

With a growl, Alter stomped over and jerked the piece of jewelry out of CasCu’s hands, plopping it delicately back on the table. “It’s none of your business.” He grumbled, grabbing CasCu and dragging him to the couch. “Leave my shit alone.”

“Fine, I will.” He crossed his arms and sat. “But it is my business. I would like to have a general gist of what goes on in your lives.”

“Like you do with us.” 

He scowled at the tv. “Shut up.”

“Because I’m right.”

“Let’s just put in the first movie you asshole.” 

Alter snorted, harsh and amused. “Fine. I’ll leave it alone.” The ‘for now’ didn’t need to be said.

_ Berserker falls first. Cu sees it from the top of an abandoned crane. The beam sags beneath his feet. Rust has bloomed across the iron, and shards of metal splinter with every movement. He holds his breath, ansuz drawn across his face, so he can see the fight in full. _

_ Before now, Berserker had seemed impossible to defeat. Cu had watched him rise from the dead before, but now Saber, or the thing that used to be Saber, chews through his lives with ease. Each blow sends tremors through the ground. Their confrontation leaves whole swaths of the city in rubble. But finally Berserker stops moving, and Saber brings her sword down for one last blow. _

_ His body is left there, so small in death. Saber walks away. Her sword tip drags against the ground, her armor dark against her small frame. There is a visor that covers the top half of her face. The red light paints her pale hair bloody. No longer a golden crown, but a pale imitation. _

_ Cu carefully turns around, gets ready to leave. _

_ Berserker lunges from the ground and Cu spins, heart leaping into his throat. Maybe, maybe - but his hopes are dashed. Berserker is no longer Berserker, just like Saber is no longer Saber. He has grown even taller, the axes, two now, glint gold in his grip. His hair is a wiry mass that shoots in tangles down his back. His skin glows dull red, black lines criss cross the surface. It is like there is a furnace inside him, and he is about to blow, barely held together.  _

_ He shambles after the dark king, a new soldier in her army. _

_ Between the two of them, Assassin falls.  _

_ Cu hadn’t been able to find Assassin before it was too late. Lancer knows about this power of Saber’s, she’d retreated to some dark corner upon Cu’s revelations. Rider knows as well. She had looked him in the face and told him that she would fight. She has the bearing of someone who is used to adversity far greater than hers, but Cu has no illusions. Alone they stand no chance. They need to ban together. Rider knows that, but Lancer refuses. As for Archer . . . _

_ Cu doesn’t know. He can’t find him. The man is nowhere and it makes Cu want to scream. This isn’t the time to sulk. This isn’t time to mourn. That can be done later, when Saber and Berserker have been put to rest. But Archer remains stubbornly hidden, and for some reason Cu can’t sense his presence anywhere. _

_ It is because of ansuz that he doesn’t fall. He spots the gleaming figure of Assassin trailing him, and loses a bolt of fire in his direction. He’s too fast. The fire trails off into the dark. He lunges towards Cu and that is when he sees his mask. The pale skull mask has gone cracked and grey, and in the depths of the eyeholes there are two motes of red light. Assassin’s purple hair is bleached white as bone. His skin is cracked with red marks, they crawl across his forearms and decorate his knife. _

_ Cu has no desire to know if Assassin can corrupt like Saber can. He flees, riado burning into his skin. When he gets the chance he slips into spirit form and leaves Assassin behind.  _

_ It is a momentary relief. _

_ He hates feeling like he’s the hunted. _

_ He is too late to save Lancer. He doesn’t know when Saber strikes her down, but the next time he sees her, her purple hair has been lightened, her violet eyes turned amber. Red marks decorate her pale skin. She slinks through a forest of stone figures. He doesn’t know them all, but he recognizes enough. People from the city. _

_ It feels like a reality marble, almost. It's close enough to count. He leaves before she can find him. He has no wish to be part of her garden. _

_ He almost makes it for Rider. Her voice is strong in his head.  _ “Running will get us nowhere Caster. I am going to stand my ground and face them. It is better to die with dignity then crawling like a rat.”

_ Cu wants to scream at the sky, to claw his hair out and yell. Instead he sends back,  _ “It isn’t crawling like a rat, it's a basic matter of survival. Hide and avoid being noticed, so we can refucking group. We have a better chance of winning that way. Just let me find Archer so we can meet up and figure out a plan.”

_ There is a moment, then she sighs.  _ “Alright.”

_ He stops and searches around him. He does not see Assassin, and faintly he can feel Rider’s presence. He can’t sense Archer. Bastard must have a trick up his sleeve, some kind of noble phantasm that allows him to hide his presence. It’s the only thing that makes sense. It makes Cu want to scream.  _

_ He won’t be able to find Archer like this. Let him sulk, Cu is done wasting his time searching when he could be helping Rider out with a plan. He leaves, as fast as he can towards Rider’s presence. _

_ He is too slow. _

_ Saber and Berserker’s presences light up in his mind as he is drawing near Rider. Rider is in her chariot, her white clothes painted red with the fires light. Her hair waves in the wind, her chariot screams down the road. Berserker thunders after her, a roar bursting from his lips. Some of the more cracked buildings shake apart at the sound. Behind him steps Saber, strides even and measured. Her sword blazes like a dark star. _

_ Rider looks back. Her green eyes flash with defiance. _

_ Then Assassin pours out of every nook and cranny, from every shadow and doorway. Cu jerks to a halt, disbelief making his heart stop. They are a sea of bleached hair and grey skull faces and red streaked limbs. They drag Rider’s chariot to a standstill with grasping hands and darting knives. Berserker is next, his two axes crash down into her chariot, and Rider barely dodges the blow.  _

_ Her eyes meet Cu’s. They are hard and determined. Cu can’t breathe, all the strength has been drawn from his limbs. He doesn’t know . . . his noble phantasm, that might help, but it would catch Rider too. He doesn’t know what to do. Lugh, there are so many. _

_ It had been a long time since panic had seized control like this. _

_ “RUN!” Rider’s voice breaks through his panic. “RUN! I WILL HOLD THEM OFF!” She slashes with her sword. It is glowing gold now, like Saber’s had but not quite the same. Her hair dances around her, glinting with the sword's light. “DO NOT LET OUR DEATHS BE IN VAIN!” _

_ He begins to stumble back. Ansuz lights at his fingers again, this time bent differently then to see. This time it is for illusions, to hide in plain sight. He weaves it with algiz. Protection from view. Protection from being found. He turns and runs, hating himself, hating himself for leaving her there. But he knows better. If he goes down there, they would both die. _

_ “ANDRASTE GIVE ME YOUR STRENGTH!” _

_ Cu grits his teeth and continues to flee. He has to find Archer. They are the only ones left now. _

_ A day passes. Maybe two, maybe three. It is so hard to tell now. He doesn’t even know how long it's been since the whole world shifted. A week? Five? A few days? It doesn’t matter anymore.  _

_ Lancer has staked out her ground, so has Berserker and Rider. Assassin flits through the streets, so, so many of them. They are in various shapes and sizes, some male, some female, some neither. He swears he saw a child one day, in a white dress smeared with ash, playing with an abandoned ball. He has taken to killing them whenever he spots one, but it is not enough. _

_ Saber has retreated. She has claimed the grail’s home as her own. _

_ As for Archer, it takes days for him to appear. But finally he does. He stands on that same crane Cu had used so long ago, bow in hand. Cu approaches him slowly, each step careful. Ansuz and algiz are a constant strain against his skin. He had to cut off the traps, they were drawing too much energy from him. Without a Master he can’t use his mana like he used to. But ansuz and algiz are a must have.  _

_ “What are you planning Archer?” His voice is soft. He spotted an Assassin on the way here, but had missed his shot. He doesn’t want to alert others if they’re close. _

_ Archer turns to glare at him. His amber eyes are red rimmed and dim, his hair even more of a mess then before. His fingers shake against his bow. He is the picture of a beaten man, but the growl he sends Cu’s way is that of one who hasn’t finished fighting yet. “You.” _

_ Cu grips the iron between his fingers, ignoring the way it presses against his hand. “Me.” _

_ Archer steps forward, towards Cu. The hatred in his eyes is a living thing. “It is because of you that we’re here now! If you hadn’t stopped me,” he lets out a furious growl, “Saber would still be here! They would all still be here!” _

_ Cu can only stare back at him. He wants to be angry, but he’s just drained. He’s tired of running and hiding. He needs a spot to rest and lay low, but he can’t do that until Assassin stops clogging the streets. “You don’t know that.” _

_ Archer laughs, a bit hysterically. “And you do?” _

_ No, he doesn’t. Maybe if Saber hadn’t pulled the responsibility of the Grail upon herself. Maybe if he had let Archer follow her. Maybe if Cu had gone himself - but there are too many maybe’s and not enough certainties. “You’re going to face her?” _ _   
_

_ Yeah, I am.” Archer bites out. “Are you going to stop me?” _

_ Cu can only grip the iron tighter. “She’ll kill you.” _

_ Archer just stares hotly. Maybe there are tears on his cheeks, it is too hard to tell in this light.  _

_ “You realize,” he says slowly, “that the minute you get there, she’ll call her lackeys. There are dozens of Assassins. Berserker is a monster you have no chance of ending on your own. Lancer is slowly changing the docks into some statuary shop and Rider,” he sighs, “I don’t even know what happened to Rider. She’s like a whole other person. But any of them would destroy you if you attempted to attack Saber alone.” _

_ Once again Archer says nothing. _

_ “Think.” Cu snaps, suddenly tired of his silence. “Neither of us have a chance on our own. It would be better to ban together, to help one another -” _

_ “Like you did with Rider.” _

_ Cu flinches. Archer’s words cut right down to his marrow and Cu can’t bring himself to hate the man for it. Because he is right. If he had been a few seconds faster, if he hadn’t frozen up, if he’d used Wickerman, then things might be completely different now. But there is no way to know, and there is no time to feel guilty. All he can do is move forwards. He opens his mouth to speak, but Archer is already gone.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know . . . Singularity F is like, really fucking weird if you think about it. Just, you know, weird.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catch me chanting Salter in the background, bc she’s fun. Possible alliance? A very serious conversation about coffee. One of these days I’m going to break and write a story about Nightingale but the simple fact is that would require too much research so it will probably never happen. Gossip Gang stop blowing things out of proportion challenge. Movie night? Movie night. And honestly, Shadow!Emiya, how petty can you get? (the answer is very.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey ya'll! I'm back! Thanks so much for your comments and kudos and I hope you have a wonderful day!

_ It’s dumb, that’s what it is. This choice to follow Archer to his death. Really, if the guy wants to die so bad, then Cu should just let him. He wouldn’t be a good ally if he was constantly gunning for Saber’s head. But . . . he’s failed Rider. And Lancer as well, in a way. Cu isn’t going to fail Archer. _

_ So, he chases after Archer’s rushing form. In the hazy light it is hard to pick out, the occasional outline of his butt cape, the white of his hair as it catches the light. Cu trails behind him, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, keeping his eyes on the road. He doubts Archer wants his help, but Assassin is down there, everywhere. There is no way he can fight so many alone. So, Cu does what he can to throw off the scent. A few runes to hide Archer’s trail, a few fires burning away a copy or whatever the extras were. Not much, but he can't spare more mana for anything else. Not if he wants to make a dent in Archer’s fight with Saber. _

_ The forest, or what is left of it, approaches. Cu can make out the burnt stumps of trees, the scorched ground, the blackened rocks. Archer jumps off one of the buildings that hasn’t toppled yet and lands with barely a whisper. He races off through the wrecked woods.  _

_ Reluctantly, Cu jumps down as well. Beneath his feet the earth cries out. It is sick, so sick, and the feel of it makes him want to throw up. He pushes past the sensation, and follows Archer from a distance. Ansaz and algiz are still up, and Cu makes sure to keep quiet. He knows how to do that, how to be silent if silence is what is necessary. Archer doesn’t seem to realize Cu’s following him. He walks through the wasteland with even strides. His shaking, broken countenance from earlier has been hidden beneath his determination. _

_ “Saber!” He calls, his voice cracking through the silence. “Saber, I know you’re there!” There’s a desperation to those words that Cu can almost name. He tucks that bit of information away for later. Just another mystery that makes up Archer. “SABER!”  _

_ Something moves through the broken stumps. Archer spins around, swords falling into his grip. It is not Saber, just another one of those skeletons that seem hell-bent on appearing everywhere. He cuts it down with brutal swipes and spins around again. _

_ “ARTORIA!” _

_ A presence, lighting in the back of his mind, swiftly approaching. _

_ “Archer.”  _

_ Saber’s voice is very, very cold, and Cu almost panics. How had she gotten here so fast? She steps from between the burnt trees, her dress crackling softly as she moves. This close, Cu can feel the wrongness of her. With her too pale hair and dark armor, her skin looks sickly. He can’t see her eyes, but he knows her attention is fixed on Archer. It is in the way her shoulders are tilted in his direction, the way she holds herself ready. In her grip, Excalibur glows, so dark, so tainted. _

_ “You were a fool to have come.” _

_ “Saber.” Archer falters, and Cu can mark the moment he begins to lose resolve. “Please, you -” He stops himself, draws his shoulders back, tightens his fingers. Cu feels a pang in his chest at that sight. He knows it well. He wore a similar face when fighting Ferdiad. “Don’t make this difficult.” _

_ Saber tilts her head. Her voice is oddly flat, as if she’s forgotten how to emote. “Don’t make this difficult? Archer, you seek to take my head. It is only fair that I take yours in return. No king would allow someone to threaten their life and live to tell the tale.” _

_ She moves, a blast of dark light, and Archer moves as well. His blades knock against Excalibur and shatter even as they push her sword away. Archer’s eyes widen, and Cu knows to the very marrow of his bones that he wasn’t expecting her to be so strong. She steps forward, shoulder first, blade sweeping up in a violent arc. If Archer wasn’t so fast, it would have killed him. Yet still the blow still sends him stumbling back. There is a cut under his arm, flesh hanging open from hip to chest. Archer’s gasp of pain is lost in the roar of Saber’s sword as she brings it down again. _

_ Cu doesn’t let her have the chance. Isa burns at his fingertips, painfully cold against his skin. Ice crawls up her body in a flash, holding her in place. Cu hates using isa, it uses up as much mana as gebo and wrestles with his concentration. He was never meant to wield ice. But it's a spur of the moment decision, and he prefers the feel of ice to Archer’s death. _

_ Archer stumbles to his feet, dual swords appearing in his hands again. His eyes jerk around wildly. Blood soaks his side. _

_ Cu moves, feet light against the dirt. He doesn’t want Saber to find him. He has no illusions as to how long he would last against her. _

_ The ice shatters, Saber brings down her sword in a blaze of power. Archer is not there, and Excalibur crashes against the ground, sending cracks skittering through the earth. Then Archer is behind her, bringing his swords down to bury in her back, pain written across his face. There is the sound of metal shattering against metal, of something sharp burying into flesh. Cu can barely believe his eyes. He freezes, breath stuck in his throat. Archer’s swords have shattered against Saber’s armor. The shards twinkle softly before fading into blue motes. Saber’s sword is reversed in her grip, the tip protrudes out of Archer’s back. She whips the blade out with a sick sucking sound and steps to the side as Archer falls. Cu can only watch him collapse. Somehow, the man is still alive. His eyes are wide, blood spills from his mouth. Red lines are crawling from the hole in his stomach and the wound in his side.  _

_ Saber speaks. Her voice is like ice. “As I said, all who vie for the king's head will die in return.” She brings back Excalibur for the final blow.  _

_ Gebo is hot in his fingers. He moves before he thinks, riado and ingwaz traced across his skin. The blazing spear blocks her strike, but even with his runes, he is driven to the ground. Gebo shatters, the motes of light swirling and fading. Saber’s mouth is a grim slash, she raises Excalibur again. Kaunaz, when all else fails, Cu knows kaunaz will work for him. He lights it once, twice, three times, sending the barrage of flames point-blank into her face. She takes a step back, beating them away with her sword, and it's just enough time to write hagalaz. The force of the wind sends her hurtling back, but it is a temporary thing. _

_ They have to get out of here. _

_ Cu spins around. Archer isn’t moving, and Cu can’t tell whether he’s alive or dead. There’s a pool of blood spreading across the ground, sinking into the dirt. Red lines claw their way across his skin. He is changing. Cu should leave him here, he doesn’t know if Archer can even be saved. _

_ He thinks of Rider, her furious last moments.  _

_ With a muttered oath, he reaches down and picks up Archer in his arms. The man’s eyes are closed, but there is a faint wheezing sound coming from his lips. Alive. For now, at least. Cu allows himself a sigh of relief.  _

_ A crackle through the air, a whump of power.  _

_ Cu wastes no more time. Soon he is hurtling through the remains of the woods as fast as able, towards the city. He presses ansuz and algiz against Archer’s arm and hopes that it will be enough. _

__

_ One of Fuyuki’s many schools is the place least claimed by skeletons. Archer is deathly still in his arms, and Cu can feel panic beating in the back of his throat. He’s too late. He’s too late. The mantra repeats over and over in his mind, even as his feet pound against the stairs. He’s too late, he’s too late. Through a door, kicking desks and chairs to the side to lay Archer on the floor. He’s too late. Too late. Too late. He stumbles around the room, layering rune after rune after rune on the walls. Too late. Too late. Too late. He collapses to the floor, by Archer’s side, pressing his fingers against his neck. Too late too late too late too late. He can’t feel a pulse. Too late too late too late too la -  _

_ No, there is one. Faint and sluggish. Thank Lugh. He almost sobs, and he’s not even sure why. Maybe it's because if Archer died, if Archer turned, then he would be alone in this mess, and he hates the very thought of struggling through this horror by himself. So yes, Archer is a brat and Cu doesn't like him, but he doesn’t want him dead either.  _

_ Frantically, he lays rune after rune across Archer’s skin. Algiz. Naudiz. Berkanan. Over and over again until he nearly passes out from the strain. Finally, he pulls back, staring at Archer’s prone form. His wounds have knit together, his chest rises and falls, but red still marks his skin. Alive, he is alive. Now all Cu can do is wait. _

_ He stumbles to his feet. His robes are heavy, the pale blue stained purple with Archer’s blood, they make moving hard. He staggers back and falls into one of the seats. He’s done too much, too much too fast. The fight with Saber, securing this place, Archer’s healing. He’s so low on mana it feels as if he’ll disappear within moments. So, he does the only thing he can do while he waits for Archer to wake.  _

_ He passes out. _

__

_ Cu wakes immediately when someone grunts. He jerks at the sound, nearly falling out of his seat. He blinks back his foggy thoughts, the dark that clings to his mind, and peers at Archer through his lashes. Archer is flopping about, groaning in pain. The red marks have dimmed now, they no longer shine through his clothing, but Cu can still see them. They decorate Archer’s stomach and side where his armor has ripped. A few dart down one arm and claw up his neck.  _

_ Cu waits, barely breathing. He doesn’t even summon his staff, he doesn’t want Archer to freak out at the sight. _

_ Slowly Archer seems to gain control of his limbs and pushes himself up, dragging a hand through his hair. “Wha - He stops, his eyes land on Cu’s form, then, in a dizzying explosion of movement, he jumps up, summons his swords, trips, and collapses to the ground. _

_ “Careful there brat,” Cu grumbles, “Don’t undo all the work I put into stitching you back together.” _

_ Archer curses, letting go of his swords. They disappear as he levers himself to his feet. He stands there, swaying, staring at Cu, and Cu can’t help but stare back. Archer’s eyes are no longer a dull amber, now they are gold. Like hawks eyes, bright, bright yellow, outlined in black. It’s stupid how the sight threatens to take his breath away. They’re just so . . . uncanny, oddly fitting for the man who nearly sniped him while in a horrible position from half a city away.  _

_ “You.” Archer’s angry voice is enough to snap him back to reality. _

_ Cu leans back into his seat and crossed his arms. “Me. I hope you’re proud of yourself Archer, for the fat load of nothing you accomplished. Besides almost dying. You did manage that pretty well.” _

_ Archer scowls. “Oh shut it. I don’t need your criticism.” _

_ “Too bad, you’re getting it anyway.” _

_ Those brilliant yellow eyes roll. “Old goat.” The words are hissed. _

_ “Brat.” Cu shoots right back.  _

_ Archer scoffs and looks away. His shoulders are stiff, but slowly they drop. Cu can feel himself relax as well. Archer isn’t attacking, which means he’s not Saber’s soldier. Cu doubts that it was his runes that saved him, Archer had been unconscious too long for that. Berserker had been up and swinging almost immediately after his death. And this resistance, it couldn’t be all Magic Resistance. Something in Archer fought the corruption, and that is enough to ease Cu’s mind. Although it is curious as well. _

_ By Lugh this man is confusing. _

_ “You should sit.” Cu says finally, when the silence has stretched too long. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.” _

_ Archer rolls his eyes again. “Please. I’m fine.” _

_ “You were literally unconscious a minute ago.” _

_ “I am fine.” _

_ “You’re about to fall on your face.” _

_ “As if. You’re just annoyed that I’m taller than you.” _

_ “Excuse me?!” Cu shoots to his feet, stumbling forwards. He’s still weak, but it's enough to get right into Archer’s face and jab him in the shoulder. “You are not taller than me!” _

_ Archer glances down at him, a faint smirk on his lips. “I am. By two centimeters.” _

_ It’s horrifying how much he hates that it's true. Archer is taller than him, and for some reason it feels like he just lost a battle because of it. “Look, kid.” he jabs him again for emphasis. Archer’s skin is cold beneath his own. “You can think you’re taller than me all you want, but in the end you were practically died because of your stupid decisions. I saved your ass, so you better sit the fuck down before I make you sit down.” _

_ Archer sneers. The expression fits better with his hawk eyes, something angry and dangerous. “Whatever, you old goat.” _

_ “I am not old!” _

_ “And I am not a kid!”  _

_ It’s hard, Lugh is it hard, to not grab Archer and toss him out the window. He is annoying, and the more he speaks, the more Cu hates him. Especially the fact that Archer can get a rise out of him this easily. Dumb, it’s dumb. The world’s practically ended, and they are bickering like school children. He steps back and sits in his chair, sucking a harsh breath between his teeth. “Suit yourself. You’ll have nobody else to blame when your legs give out.” _

_ Archer makes some disgusted sound in the back of his throat, but beyond that, doesn’t reply. _

_ They sit and stand in silence for a long time, watching each other. It's not just the red marks and the eyes that have changed. The design on his shirt has shifted subtly, his butt cape is a shade or two darker than it had been. Cu almost wants to ask about that butt cape. It’s too ridiculous of a concept to let go. Honestly, a walking fashion disaster waiting to happen. Somehow, he thinks Archer is having similar thoughts about him too. It would make sense. Archer’s brows are furrowed as if contemplating a tricky puzzle. _

_ “Why did you do it?” He asks finally. “Why did you waste so much mana on me?” _

_ The answer comes easy. Cu’s been asking himself that same question since saving Archer's defenseless ass. “Because I would prefer to have an ally more than an enemy.” He leans back in his seat and considers Archer for a moment, rolling the rest of his argument around in his mind. He probably shouldn’t mention Rider’s death as a driving force, but that truth still sits heavy in his chest. No more failures. _

_ “You hate me.” _

_ “Yeah, I do. But that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to work with you.” Archer opens his mouth to say something, but Cu cuts over him. “Besides, I doubt Saber would have wanted you dead.”  _

_ Archer freezes. _

_ Cu shrugs and turns his gaze out the window. The glass is smeared and dirty, but he can still see the city beyond. “She wanted me to save you, that one time. I don’t think she would have wanted me to turn around and let you die.” In the window, Archer’s reflection is distorted, but Cu can still see him turn his head away. _

_ “You don’t know her.” He said softly. _

_ “And you did.” _

_ For a long time, Archer said nothing, then finally, he mumbled. “Yeah, I did.” He sighs heavily and stumbles to one of the chairs, sinking into the seat. Cu restrains a triumphant smirk. “That thing,” Archer continues, “it's not her.” _

_ Cu shrugs. “Probably not her, at least.” He taps his knee with his finger, restlessly. He wants to move, to get out, to leave. He doesn’t like sitting here. He feels like a sitting duck. This school might have been empty of enemies, but it is not the proper place to set up a workshop. Even tainted, he would prefer to connect a bounded field to the ley lines. It would be easier to maintain that way, but this school is nowhere close to a source of power he can plug in to. “So,” he broaches finally, “working together.” _

_ “Absolutely not.” _

_ Cu jerks his gaze away from the view, staring incredulously at Archer’s form. He still isn’t looking at him, his arms are crossed over his broad chest. “You didn’t even hesitate!”  _

_ “Yeah,” Archer snaps back, “and do you know why? You let Saber go out there on her own. You let Rider and the others get corrupted -” _

_ Cu jerks to his feet, anger hot in his chest. Lugh it feels good. He’s needed an excuse to just yell at someone since this damn thing started and Archer just handed him one on a silver platter. “Look, kid, I don’t know how much you know about warfare, but you can’t save everyone! Sometimes you have to cut your losses and run!” _

_ Archer’s on his feet as well, golden eyes flashing furiously. “That doesn’t give you the excuse to just leave them! You should always try to help, you don’t just cut your losses and run! You fight for their lives!” _

_ Cu sucked in a harsh breath. “Like you did? I went back to that office building after Berserker was taken, and you were nowhere to be found. Where were you when Assassin was corrupted? Where were you when Lancer was killed? Where were you when Rider was -” _

_ “Don’t you dare throw this on me!” _

_ “Well, brat, it wasn’t just my responsibility! We all have a part to play in this fucking war, and its gone all topsy turvy, so excuse me for thinking that maybe someone else would like to fix things for once! I admit! I messed up with Rider, I should have helped, but this is war. People die. It’s what happens.” _

_ “And you just accept that?!” _

_ “And you don’t?!” _

_ Archer’s jaws snap shut and Cu can mark the moment when he closes off. His eyes go dark. His shoulders stiffen. Cu’s hit some sort of button, and he has no clue what it is. “You’re right,” Archer said slowly. “People die. They die all the fucking time. Sometimes you have to choose one over the other. That’s not what I have a problem with. My problem is you choose yourself over Rider. Her -” _

_ “Death is on my head. I know that!” Cu growls in frustration. “I’m not denying that bit. And Saber too, I don’t think I could have helped, but I could have tried. Their deaths weigh on my shoulders, a few other ghosts to add to my haunting.” He laughs harshly. “As for me, do you know what Rider said? She said that I couldn’t let their death’s be in vain. I am not going to let that happen, alright?” He runs his hand through his hair, sucking in a harsh breath. His anger is too hard to keep up against Archer’s brick wall of a face. “We don’t have to like each other to make this work. We just have to be able to work together.” _

_ “I can’t.” Archer says coldly. “I can’t work with you.” _

_ Cu growls out softly. This Lugh be damned idiot was going to risk their - _

_ “Not right now at least.” _

_ He freezes. _

_ “I -” Archer sighs. His shoulders don’t loosen, but one hand reaches up to rub at his face. “Give me a few days to think it over. Okay, old goat? I can’t think straight right now.” _

_ By Lugh, he’s an idiot. The fight drains out of him, all the anger running away to some dark corner of his brain. Archer had nearly died, had lost someone he cared about, no wonder he is so pissed at him. Yeah, they hadn’t had the best of relationships beforehand either, but that just makes this worse. He shouldn’t be picking fights. Lugh, he’s such an idiot. “Fine,” He says. “Fine, I’ll give you time to think it over. Don’t get yourself killed beforehand.”  _

_ He leaves before Archer can say anything else. He doesn’t want to look at Archer’s closed off face for one second longer. _

Unlike the past few nights, CasCu didn’t wake up abruptly. He swam from his dream like an exhausted swimmer, dragging himself to consciousness. Warm, he was warm, and the sensation tried to send him back to sleep. He didn’t want . . . no . . . no . . . he couldn’t . . . he shouldn’t . . .

“CasCu, wake up.”

There was a hand on his shoulder, claws digging into his skin. CasCu blinked fully awake, beating back the darkness that threatened to drag him down again. “Alter?”

The Berserker’s figure was outlined by the room’s lights, his eyes blazing in the shadows hiding his face. His voice was as soft as it ever got, the barely there growl almost indistinguishable from his words. “You fell asleep.”

“Fuck, I know that.” He groaned and pushed himself up. Alter’s hand fell from his shoulder, and CasCu sucked in a harsh breath. His mind was swimming, or perhaps it was the room that was swimming. Swirling, swirling, swirling. Archer’s voice rang in his mind. Those gold, accusatory eyes burned against his eyelids. Fucking dreams. He hated them so much. “Did you get any spillover?”

“Not tonight.” Alter pulled back, the light fell fully onto his form. At least he looked well rested. “Do you -”

“No.”

Alter stared at him for a moment. “Fine,” he growled out, “be that way. Get back to your room and get dressed, idiot. You’re staying here tonight.” CasCu opened his mouth to protest, but the glare Alter shot him allowed for no arguments. With a sigh, he nodded, shoved his hands into his pockets, and left.

There wasn’t time to take a shower, so CasCu focused on getting rid of all the tangles in his hair instead. He stared at himself in the mirror, watching the brush dart through the blue locks. He’d had, what, four hours of sleep? Maybe three? He looked it too, exhaustion was written across his face. But a thrill still ran through him. He'd only fallen asleep once, not multiple times. That was progress. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to watch horror movies with someone else, and although Alter was mostly unaffected, the reactions he had when scared were hilarious. 

He sighed at the mirror and placed the brush against the counter, listening to the faint click it made. He stared at the glass as if he could make out the shapes of the dead that followed him. Archer had been right, calling him out on Rider and Saber. Just two more people to add to the tally of those he had failed. As for Archer . . . he was the third ghost Fuyuki had given him, just the most persistent. 

CasCu turned away from the mirror, striding from the bathroom and towards his closet. He threw the doors open and began shuffling through the clothes. His fingers came to rest against the neon green sleeves of a puffer jacket. He stared at it for a moment, then dragged it off the hook.

Proto screamed when he entered the cafeteria and made his way towards their table, throwing his hands over his face. “My eyes! My eyes!”

CasCu rolled his eyes. “Shut it brat, the jacket’s not that bright.”

Cu made a great show of squinting at him. “Are you sure? It looks like it's glowing.”

CasCu rolled his eyes again and sat down. “You have no room to speak.” Cu was wearing one of his Hawaiian shirts, the splotches of sunny yellow and green almost as bright as CasCu’s jacket. Beside him, Alter sat in a Hawaiian shirt that was much, much duller, something made of dark purples and reds. 

Proto shifted away from CasCu as if his jacket could infect his perfectly bland black shirt. 

CasCu rolled his eyes at him, and grabbed his cup of . . . water. Fucking water. He glared sullenly at Cu. “Why have you been making my plate for me?”

Cu waved his fork around. “Because you drink too much coffee. That stuff can kill you, you know.”

“No it can’t.”

“Yes it can,” Proto butted in, leaning forwards slightly. “Kotarou said that Gudako’s coffee intake is limited to four cups a day because that’s the safest intake for someone of her weight and age. But it would take around fifty to kill her.”

Cu gaped at him. “How does he know these things?”

CasCu stared at his water in disappointment. “I’m a Servant. Coffee can’t kill me.”

“Are you positive about that?” Proto grinned. “What if a Servant made the coffee?”

There was a pause as CasCu mulled over that. Cu had stopped too, eyebrows narrowed as he thought. Theoretically it was possible, a pencil couldn’t harm a Servant until a Servant wielded it. And Berserkelot, another recent summoning who had been problematic at first, could take random objects and turn them into his noble phantasm.

“I can’t believe,” Alter said, disdain in his voice, “that you two are actually considering that question. It’s stupid.”

“You say that now,” Cu said solemnly, “but what if Serenity made you coffee? What would happen then Alter?”

With a growl, Alter shoved Cu out of his seat. Proto burst into laughter, wild and carefree. CasCu fought and failed to contain his grin. Suddenly, with his other selves around him, laughing and growling and complaining over something as stupid as coffee, last night’s dream faded away.

The infirmities were quiet, then again, it was just after breakfast. Someone would have really messed up to end up in the infirmities this early. He stood outside the door, staring at the metal surface. His reflection stared back at him. What was he thinking? Going to Nightingale for something like this was stupid, she’d string him up to dry or knock him out for who knows how long. It was dangerous, disastrous, but at the same time probably his best shot. If she knew a way to get him to sleep without dreaming, then he would take it. The dreams were the problem after all. If she managed that, he’d skip to his room right after and pass out for a week. Voluntarily. The benefits outweighed the cons. He reached out -

And stopped, hand hovering over the door knob. If he did this, he would never see Archer again. For some dumb reason, the thought hurt. To see his stupid smirk on Emiya’s lips, to see those brilliant gold eyes on Edgemiya’s face, but to never, never see them on Archer again. It sent a dull throb of pain in his chest. In many ways it felt like he was Archer’s only connection to the world, Salter never spoke of Fuyuki, Gudako and Mash had put it behind them, except as Olga’s resting place. Archer was left forgotten, barely a footnote in Chaldea’s past. Except for CasCu.

No, he was being sentimental. The past was in the past, and Archer had had plenty of time to show up in Chaldea if he was so inclined to. It was time to let his ghost rest. He opened the door to the infirmary and stepped inside. 

“Chronic insomnia,” Nightingale noted down on her clipboard. He’d been lucky she hadn’t been busy, although lucky might have been stretching it. No one was lucky when Nightingale was concerned. She tapped the pen against the clipboard, staring at him as if evaluating all his faults. He knew what she saw, a walking disaster who hadn’t slept in too many months. The chronic insomnia poster child, only it was self caused. He didn’t have to tell her that, though. Probably. “There are many causes of insomnia,” she continued, “Have you been particularly stressed lately?”

He hesitated, wondering how to answer that question.

Nightingale nodded. “I see.”

“Oi, I didn -”

“Has your schedule changed at all? Gudako has not informed me of any change in your rotation.”

“No, it hasn’t changed.”

“Poor sleeping habits,” she continued. “These include irregular bedtime schedules, naps, stimulating activities before bed, an uncomfortable sleep environment, using your bed for work, and eating or watching TV beforehand. Any screen should be avoided at least thirty minutes before you attempt to sleep, preferably an hour beforehand.”

CasCu sighed and stared at the wall. He had signed up for this. “Yes.”

“To which ones?”

“All of them.”

There was a brief pause, in which he could feel Nightingale's gaze bore into him. With effort, he did not look at her. Her pen scratched accusingly against the paper. “I am going to put you down for the next one as well. Mental disorders are another possible cause, and insomnia can often worsen them. Do you have any PTSD episodes, or -”

“No. I’m fine.”

“Cu Chulainn, do not hide information from me. Insomnia is a problem that needs to be resolved as soon as possible. If it is not fixed, you could end up blacking out in the middle of a Rayshift, possibly leading to your death or the death of your allies and your Master. Additionally, mental health disorders can be potentially fatal. I will not allow that to happen. Now tell me -”

“I’m fine.” He spat out back at her, “I know how much of a fucking problem this is, alright? I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t a problem.”

She stared at him, then scrawled something across her paper. He didn’t know what it was, but it probably wasn’t good. He didn’t care. Nightingale’s voice was sharp, not to the edge of madness yet, but close. “I have prescribed you no medications, so that cannot be a cause. There are some medical conditions that could lead to insomnia, chronic pain, cancer, diabetes. We’ll do a medical checkup just in case something has developed since your last check in. I have not diagnosed you with any sleep disorders -”

“I have nightmares.” He blurted out.

She froze, then measured him with her blazing eyes. “How often.”

“Every time I sleep.” He said carefully.

“Elaborate.” She ordered.

“They’re . . . the memories . . . that we all dream. You know, the Holy Grail Wars and shit like that. They’re supposed to fade after the first run through, though. But, uh, mine . . . repeat.” 

“Singularity F.”

“Yes.”

She set aside her clipboard and leaned forwards in her seat, lacing her fingers together. “Nightmare disorder is uncommon,” she said, each word coming cold and clipped, clinical, “but it can be triggered by quite a few things. Stress, which I already have you down for. Trauma, which you experienced during Singularity F. They are very common in those who have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Nightmares are also caused by sleep deprivation, something you show clear signs of. Medication can be ruled out. Other sleep related disorders. Substance abuse. Other medical conditions and mental disorders. Scary books and movies are also a cause of nightmares.”

CasCu rolled his eyes. “The horror genre isn’t even that scary.”

“So you watch.”

“Yeah, to keep me from sleeping.”

She stood abruptly, and CasCu nearly leaped back at the movement. “You are going to have a physical exam, and then you are going to describe to me all the symptoms you have, in detail. Then I will conduct a polysomnography.” Her eyes brightened, burning dangerously. “Do not resist treatment.”

“Fuck, fuck wait!” He pushed away from her, pressing his back against the wall. “What the fuck is a polysomnography?” 

“You will report here after dinner, and I will record your sleep patterns. This will allow me to determine any other sleep disorders you have. Once that has been achieved, I will then be able to determine the correct treatment path that will lead to your full recovery.”

Panic rose. It lay bitter in the back of his throat. Sleep? For a full night? A full night with nothing but Archer and the hell scape that was Fuyuki? He couldn’t, he wouldn’t - fuck, if Nightingale was going to make him sleep then -

A hand landed on his shoulder. He could feel the pressure of Nightingale’s grip through his puffer jacket. “If you resist treatment,” she said coldly, “I will find you and knock you out. Nightmare Disorder is not something you can play with. In extreme cases it can lead to suicidal thoughts or attempts. I will not allow this to happen. Do not worry, I will cure you even if it kills you.” She pulled him to his feet, her vise-like grip digging into his shoulder. “Now come. It is time for your physical exam.”

He supposed he was lucky that Nightingale believed in a proper eating schedule, but at the same time, the balanced meal she gave him wasn’t very scrumptious compared to the fare he would have gotten from the cafeteria. Time passed in a blur of pokes and prods and pointed questions. He was measured, weighed, tested. She sat him down and put him through the wringer, forcing him to give her every bit of information he had on the dreams. How they started, always with Archer in some way, shape or form. The path they took. From that first meeting to their last, interrupted by bouts of wakefulness. How it felt, like sometimes it was Chaldea that was the dream and the dream that was reality. How it was to be fully submerged, without knowledge of what was coming until he woke up. To know that the cycle would only repeat over and over again.

He didn’t want to do the polysomnography. It was stupid, he didn’t need it, he didn’t need to see Archer for a whole night before never seeing him again. It was counterproductive, to dream on purpose when he was trying to find a way to not dream.

But he had to go forward. One night, he could manage one night. He could risk one night of dreams, of Cu seeing his dreams, for the many dreamless nights that would follow. He would have too. It was the only thing that kept him going through Nightingale’s questions and instructions. One night. One night of Archer, then empty, blissful nothingness afterward. He just had to get through one night. 

One night.

He was released in time for the Gossip Gang meeting, with strict orders from Nightingale to return after movie night was over. He had absolutely no gossip for today, except for the few bits of evidence he had collected last night before passing out. Hopefully, it would be enough. He pushed open Marie’s door with a forced grin. “Guess who's not dead!”

“You?” Achilles hazarded.

Marie brightened when he entered, pushing her seat back and standing up. She wore a pretty summer dress, all lace and frills and matching colors, cheery as the look she had on her face. “CasCu, wassup?” She bounded over to him, grabbing his hands and giving him a once over, her eyes sharp and piercing. “You hardly look better. You did sleep, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I slept.” CasCu pulled his hands from her grip and rubbed them over his face. “I also saw Nightingale, so everything will be under control soon. Alright? You don’t need to hound me about sleeping.”

She pouted at him and took a step back. “Fine then, I won’t. But I will hound on you about that jacket. What color is it supposed to be?”

“Bright.” Achilles answered with a snort. He was eating something, crumbs decorated his shirt and chin. On the table, there was a plate of delicate looking pastries. By Lugh, they looked good.

CasCu rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He glanced around. “Where’s Lily?”

Achilles pouted. “She’s not coming. Has something in the works that she’s busy with. She did say she might be free in a couple of days or so.”

“Alright then.” CasCu stretched then grinned, “I bet I know something you don’t know.”

Achilles straightened. “A bet? What are we betting?”

“Nothing,” Marie chastised, pushing CasCu towards his seat before sitting elegantly on her own. “We don’t bet. Besides,” she picked up the teapot and began to pour another cup, “CasCu has been gone for two days. It would be unfair to bet on his information.” 

“Oi, one of those days was your fault, and I read the notes for that one. I would have been caught up today if I hadn’t been busy taking care of myself.” He took the cup as she passed it over and debated adding cream and sugar. He hadn’t had any coffee today, and he itched for some caffeine. But cream and sugar . . . hmm. Sugar was good. Sugar helped keep him awake. He started adding spoonfuls.

“CasCu? Take care of himself?” Achilles snorted harshly, “That’s something I never thought I would hear in one sentence. Unless the word not was in that sentence.”

Marie tittered, “Come now. If he visited Nightingale, then he would have no choice, would he? And Sanson spotted him in the infirmary a few hours ago. That does lend credence to his story.”

“Thank you both so much for your confidence in me.” CasCu said dryly.

Achilles just grinned. “You’re welcome. Now, for gossip.” He paused dramatically, then shot forwards, eyes wide. “Diar’s replacing us!”

CasCu froze, cup halfway to his lips. Marie tilted her head slightly. Achilles continued, waving his hands around wildly. “He’s been hanging out with that new Saber, Lan Ling, all the time. They’re starting a club together, another club! The Chaos Crew was Diar’s and mine brain child, and now he’s tossing us aside for this random stranger!”

“Ah bon?” Marie tapped her finger against her chin. “And what would you say is the relationship between the two? Friendly? Not friendly? More than friendly?”

Achilles collapsed fully onto the table. His head hit the tablecloth with a thunk. “I don’t know!” He wailed. “Lan Ling is always wearing that mask, it's so hard to tell what he’s thinking! But Diar really seems to enjoy his company! And -”

This, this was why CasCu was a part of the Gossip Gang. Achilles blew everything out of proportion. Marie thought any interaction had the possibility of romance. He was the only one who had his feet grounded when it came to gossip. He took a sip of tea and sighed, interrupting Achilles’s diatribe. “Diarmuid isn’t tossing you over for a new club, he’s forming a support group, you dumbass.”

Achilles jerked his head up and gaped at him. Marie raised an eyebrow.

“Lan Ling,” CasCu explained, “has the same problem Diarmuid has. He covers his face because apparently he is so pretty he is cursed. So, no, it's not a club where they’ll cause chaos. It’s a club where they can complain about people falling in love with them.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Oh.” Achilles muttered. “Now I do feel silly.”

Marie pouted, “Much less dramatic, but I suppose a club for those who are considered too beautiful is a good thing. It is definitely better than some of the other clubs floating around.” She turned to CasCu and beamed. “So, anything to share with us?”

CasCu smirked into his teacup. “Well, Alter has a bullet necklace. And his room has definitely shifted style since I last went in. Alter is a borderline neat freak, this was much more . . . cluttered.

Marie lit up, clapping her hands in glee. “Oh? You must tell us all. And please, don’t be stingy with the details.”

He would have skipped dinner if he hadn’t had his meeting with Nightingale later. Meeting, it was such a nice word for Nightingale strapping him to a table, hooking him to expensive equipment, then knocking him out for an unidentified amount of time. Or whatever the fuck a polysomnography actually did. But he didn’t want to make his afternoon, well evening, worse, and skipping dinner would only make it worse. So, he stepped into the cafeteria, wincing at the loud barrier of sound that blocked his path.

The world was saved, Goetia defeated. They’d made their way through two Pseudo - Singularities, and soon the new director of Chaldea would be coming to take over. Yet, Chaldea had only grown more crowded, not less. No one had left for the Throne of Heroes, and if what he’d heard was correct, they’d been getting more servants recently. Iskandar, Berserkelot, Scheherazade, and Lan Ling were just the tip of the iceberg. Da Vinci was certain it was evidence of more trouble on the horizon. CasCu was tempted to agree with her, but whatever the reason, the result was that all the tables in the cafeteria were full.

He could see Proto, sitting with Fran and Mordred, Fuuma by his side. He thought in some shadowy corner he could see Emiya and Cu. Alter was lost in the sea of faces, if he was even there in the first place. Marie had a few tables for her and her friends, she waved him and Achilles a goodbye as she skipped over to them. Iskandar wasted no time in stealing Achilles and whisking him away, probably for more stories of his exploits. Hector lay collapsed beside Moriarty and Vlad. Tomoe talked cheerfully with Osakabehime. Salter . . . Salter was there with a heaping pile of food with Jalter across from her. Diarmuid could just be seen beside Lan Ling. It was a swirl of chaos and danger, just waiting for him to thread through the masses.

CasCu sighed, and plunged into the fray. Past standing groups of people, through the sea of elbows and knees and arms and legs, until he was finally ejected into the line for the food. He stood there, hands shoved into his pockets, listening closely to the scraps of gossip that floated through the air. He let the sound drown him, let it wipe away his apprehension for later tonight.

He managed to find a seat, close but not exactly next to where Hector, Moriarty, and Vlad sat. If there was a club for old people tired of younger people, it was this one, but really it was just a time when he could sit and listen and piece together what he could from the cafeteria’s cacophony. 

Hector ate lazily, occasionally commenting on something that had happened during the day. Moriarty hummed, lost in his plans, eyes tracking over the crowded room. Vlad swirled what was either a glass of red wine or blood, affecting an unshakable, regal air. 

So, Cu ate, and listened, and collected his scraps of information. Vlad sat and drank his red drink. Hector made his little comments until he made the mistake of mentioning Fran, which sent Moriarty from plotting mode to dad mode. So CasCu listened to that, fully tuning into Moriarty’s eager bragging about his adopted daughter, which caused Vlad to mention Elizabeth, which caused another discussion between the two about fatherhood versus unclehood or whatever they called it. Hector chimed in as well, adding his two bits from his experiences.

CasCu didn’t, though. He’d failed his chance at being a father long ago, there was no use in bringing it up now. But watching the normally lazy, plotting, or stoic Servants gush about their sons or daughters or nieces was a nice touch to his day, bright among the overhanging storm cloud that marked his nearby future. 

“I won’t be staying the night in your room.” CasCu said, staring at Alter. They were in the hallway outside the auditorium. Cu and Emiya had yet to arrive, and Edgemiya wasn’t anywhere either, at least not that CasCu could sense. Proto had yet to get here as well. It was just him and Alter, standing in silence before the crowd poured into the makeshift movie theater.

Alter crossed his arms. His face was unreadable, but there was a stiffness in his shoulders that CasCu didn’t like. “Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not. And before you ask why, I have other plans.”

“Other plans.” Alter repeated, his voice utterly blank. Really, the disbelief that could almost be picked out was galling. 

“Other plans for what?” And there Cu was, bounding down the hallway like an eager dog, Emiya trailing behind him with his thumbs tucked into his pockets. 

“CasCu,” Alter growled, “is spending the night in my room.”

“I,” CasCu corrected, “am going to the infirmary. I have an appointment.”

Cu slowed his approach, confusion and worry flashing across his face. “You’re going to see Nightingale? About what?”

“What about the obvious lack of sleep?” Emiya said dryly. He stepped up to Cu’s side, leaning slightly against the Lancer, and no, CasCu’s heart did not ache to see their comfortable touches. “Nightingale would drag him to the infirmary if she saw those bags.”

“Thank you, Emiya.” CasCu drew himself up, attempting to look unconcerned by the three pairs of eyes watching him. “But for your information, I’m fine.”

Alter’s snort was sudden and harsh. 

CasCu glared at him, but one look at Cu told him that the Lancer was still clueless. Still, his eyes had narrowed slightly, trained on CasCu’s face. Shit, he needed a distraction before Cu got suspicious. “Alter is just distressed to know we won’t be watching horror movies tonight.”

Cu gaped. “You watched horror movies? Without me? Why wasn’t I invited?”

“Please,” CasCu let his gaze drift to Emiya’s gray eyes, “I thought you would be . . . distracted.”

“Next time,” Emiya drawled, “Let me know ahead of time. I’ll be delighted to get some peace and quiet.”

“Emiya~!”

“You are very loud.”

“I’m very loud? Me? You’re the one who -”

“Shut up.” Another voice, somehow blander than Emiya’s and Alter’s combined. Speaking of Alter, CasCu’s eyes flicked to him. Alter had stiffened, his nostrils flaring, his pupils expanding just a tad. His tail began to twitch, scraping slightly against the floor. “Save you married couple shit for the bedroom.”

Cu and Emiya parted. Edgemiya stood there in an overly large black and white jacket, his vibrant gold eyes bored. Cu might have tried to reply, Emiya certainly tried too, but Alter’s voice cut through them all. “You’re late.”

“You’re early.”

The two stood there, staring at each other like the world had ceased to exist. CasCu could feel the tension thickening the air. He could have sworn that Alter wasn’t even breathing. He jerked from side to side, watching the two of them watch each other as if they held the secrets to the universe. 

“I’m not dealing with this.” Emiya proclaimed, shoving himself past Edgemiya, grabbing Cu’s arm and dragging the Lancer behind him.

Yeah, Emiya had the correct idea. He slapped Alter’s shoulder, and stepped around him, towards the door. “Once you’re done eye fucking, come join us. And make sure to use protection!” The door slammed behind him, cutting off any possible reply.

Movie night was awkward. It was Iskandar’s choice this week, and CasCu really hadn’t cared enough to pay attention to the movie. He thought it might have been some retelling of the Iliad, but if it was, Iskandar must have been severely disappointed. Besides, it was so much harder to pay attention when Alter and Edgemiya sat a foot separated from each other, so obviously not touching and ignoring each other that it was painful. It contrasted sharply to Cu and Emiya on his other side, Cu with his arm tossed causally over Emiya’s shoulders, Emiya leaning against Cu as if it was the most natural thing in the world. As for Proto . . .

Proto had joined them for about five minutes before proclaiming that the tension between Edgemiya and Alter was too awkward, and skedaddled to the Teenaged Terrors. CasCu could see him now, draped against Fuuma as the Assassin's hands waved around wildly. Near them, Mordred and Fran were close together. He thought they might have been holding hands, at least that was the impression he got from Mordred’s flaming face.

He let his gaze travel to Alter, who had maybe, just possibly, scooted the tiniest centimeter towards Edgemiya’s side. The Archer sat cross-legged, leaning on one hand, his weight towards Alter. CasCu wished he had a camera to take a picture of the moment. For two people who had a passionate, mistletoe induced make out session in the hallway a month ago, and were most likely sharing a room at least some nights, they were very careful to keep up the appearance that they only tolerated each other's presence. 

Alter’s eyes caught his. A barely there frown crossed his face.  _ “Stop staring.” _

CasCu smirked. _ “You should kiss him already. This is getting hard to watch.” _

_ “Are you trying to give me love advice?” _ The disdain that could be heard in his voice was painfully clear.

_ “Are you admitting that you need it?” _

_ “I do not need it.” _

_ “So what’s the problem? Are you afraid he has cooties? I hate to say, but if he did, I’m pretty sure any symptoms would have popped up weeks ago.”  _ Alter froze. Even the tip of his tail stopped twitching. Edgemiya glanced from the screen, to him, then to CasCu, one white eyebrow raising in what might have been curiosity. In the dim lights of the auditorium, his eyes glowed, supernaturally gold. The sight hurt. CasCu forced his gaze towards the movie, forced himself to pay attention. One more night. He could manage one more night. Then he would be free. 

“Are you sure this is going to go well?” CasCu asked, watching as Nightingale hooked the electrodes to his arm. Unease roiled in his gut. To give into sleep, even if only for one night . . . he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

“Of course.” Nightingale answered. By Lugh, she could have at last tried to sound more reassuring. “I have triple checked the equipment. Nothing will go wrong.” She pulled back. “Now all you have to do is sleep.

Sleep, it was stupid how that word made panic bloom in his gut. But he nodded anyway. “Any instructions?”

“Sleep as you normally would.” She laid her hand on his shoulder. “Do not worry, everything will be alright.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He laid down carefully, trying not to disturb the electrodes and the wires and all the other various bits of equipment. The beds in the infirmities were not comfortable, the mattress was hard and unyielding, the sheets were scratchy, the pillow too thin, but as much as he hoped, he knew that would not keep him from sleeping. He curled up on his side, watching as Nightingale got her things in order. Finally, she sat down by her table, pulling a stack of papers onto her lap.

“Are you ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Then sleep, CasCu.”

And with those words, he fell into the dark.

_ Cu sits on the edge of one tall building, staring down at the streets below. They are no longer safe to travel, hordes of skeletons claim them now. Their numbers have swelled in the past few days, even as Assassin’s has slowly dwindled. Cu can’t see any Assassin’s now, not even with ansuz traced across his face. There are no bright spots of power that mark a servant’s existence, just the dull gray light the skeletons give off.  _

_ He has yet to hear from Archer, and he doesn’t know whether that’s a bad thing or a good thing. Distance and time has allowed his anger too cool off to embers, but still the idea of working with him more closely is not a pleasant one. But that’s alright, he’ll make it through. He’s managed before. _

_ Now if only Archer would reply. _

_ Cu taps his fingers against the stone, feeling the rough texture against his skin. He’s found a temporary workshop. It’s not an ideal location, but it will work for now. He’ll need to find a better one soon, however. The skeletons have become thicker around his area, and his bounded field won’t be able to hold them off forever. He presses his feet against the building's wall and imagines that it is ground with power running below. He shudders. That would be unpleasant, maybe not as unpleasant as dealing with Archer, but still unpleasant.  _

_ And just like that, as if that errant thought of his unpleasantness had conjured him, Archer’s presence lights up in the back of Cu’s mind. He doesn’t turn as feet strike the rooftop. He doesn’t turn as footsteps echo of the stone. He can feel Archer glaring at his back, but he doesn’t look at that either. Better to keep an eye on his known enemies.  _

_ “You got rid of your traps.” It’s too hard to tell what’s in Archer’s voice, so Cu doesn’t even try. _

_ He breathes out slowly. “They took too much energy. Do you have your reply?” _

_ “Yes.” That makes him jerk to attention. He pushes himself up, spinning around. Archer scoffs harshly at the reaction. His arms are crossed over his broad chest, his hair sticks up in wild tangles, but his golden eyes are hard and cold. “Don’t get excited old man, that’s not my answer. My answer is no.” _

_ And all at once that little bit of anger that Cu had thought cooled off burst right back into existence. “No? No! Are you insane? I told you already -” _

_ “Look, quite frankly, I don’t like you. You’re annoying.” _

_ Cu sputtered. “You can’t just disagree because you dislike me!” _

_ “Well I am.” _

_ “Do you know how petty that is?!” _

_ “So sue me.”  _

_ Cu tries and fails to formulate a response. He can only stare at the man in front of him in mounting disbelief and anger. Archer seems unconcerned, but the red lines marking his skin stands out so painfully the sight almost hurts. Finally, he manages to wrestle his voice under control and say. “So, brat, what are you going to do now? Run off to fight Saber again and get yourself killed?” _

_ Archer’s face flexes, and he sneers. “No. In fact, I’m going to offer you a deal. We go our separate ways, and never see each other again. We take down our enemies. Separately.” _

_ “You are so dumb.” It's all he can say. “You’re going to get yourself killed out there.” _

_ “But at least I won’t have to see your face again.” By Lugh, Archer sounds almost chipper at the prospect.  _

_ Cu can’t look at him or his stupid, smug smirk and glowing eyes. Because if he does, he’ll start a fight, and a fight is not what he needs right now. So, he turns around and glares at the skeletons walking across the road. “Against my better judgement, I’m going to keep my offer open. For when you reach your senses.” _

_ “Hell would freeze over before I accepted your offer.”  _

_ Cu clicks his tongue. “Suit yourself. I hope you get into a horrible situation that could have been avoided if you’d simply decided to align yourself with me.” _

_ “Doubtful.” _

_ “When you come crawling back, begging for my good graces, we’ll see who's in the right.” _

_ Archer growls. “You know what? I owe you something.” _

_ Cu snorts. “Yeah, you owe me the time I wasted tr -” Hands hit his back, he can feel the momentary contact through his cloak and hair, then he is falling. Falling. The air tugs at his robes and cloak and hair, presses against his face, then a split second later he hits the pavement. There’s a loud crack, and iron floods his mouth as his breath is driven from his lungs. He struggles for a moment, trying to suck in air. It’s quite, so quiet. Too quiet.  _

_ Fucking Archer just pushed him into the fucking street that is full of fucking skeletons.  _

_ He’s on his feet in a split second staff in hand. Blood clings to his lips and skin. His nose throbs with his heart beat. If it’s broken, he’s going to repay the favor. Fuck never seeing Archer again. He is going to find that brat and toss him off the tallest building he could find.  _

_ The skeletons move. They turn in his direction, bones clattering against the ground, the ground . . . by Lugh he can feel the sickness in it. The sensation threatens to overwhelm and drown him. He struggles out of it and forms kaunaz. The blast of fire blows one skeleton to smithereens, but there are at least a dozen left.  _

_ “You brat!” He yells, even as his fingers form another rune. “Do you know just how childish you are being?” He risks a glance up. _

_ Archer sits where Cu had stood a moment before. His feet swing through the air. A smirk ordains his face. Even from this distance, the uncanny quality to his eyes was painfully clear. “Yeah, I do. But you know, my past week has been pretty shitty so far, and seeing you face plant makes my struggles worth it.” _

_ Cu rips his gaze away and scowls. One skeleton knocks an arrow and shoots, he bats away the arrow and shoves forwards two runes. Two more skeletons burn to ash. “Your shitty week? What about my shitty week?!”  _

_ “Well, old goat, I couldn’t really care less about your shitty week could I?” There’s enough of a strained quality to his voice that Cu knows he’s laughing. Laughing. At his expense. _

_ So maybe he snaps a little at the sound, but there’s just something about Archer’s smothered laugh that grates on his nerves. “I. Hate. You. So. Fucking. Much!” He spins his staff around and snaps the wrist of a skeleton who had drifted too close. He follows up the movement with a strike to the head and by Lugh it is satisfying to see that skull go flying. He aches for Gáe Bolg. If he had his spear he could throw it at Archer and then that man wouldn’t be such a fucking nuisance anymore.  _

_ “No worries Caster,” Archer’s voice drifts down from above, “The feeling is mutual.” _

_ Cu jerks his head up to throw a curse in his direction, but Archer is already gone. It is just him and the skeletons now. With a wild curse, he forces his attention to the skeletons. And if he imagines that he’s bashing Archer’s face in . . . well, the man deserves it for what he just pulled. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nightingale: What are the causes of your chronic insomnia?  
> CasCu: Yes
> 
> Lan Ling: Are you sure Achilles doesn’t like you  
> Diarmuid: He misses Patroclus.  
> Lan Ling: Then why is he glaring daggers at me?  
> Diarmuid: *turns around*  
> Achilles: *breaks cup*
> 
> Shadow!Emiya: Don’t like someone? No problem. Throw them off a building.

**Author's Note:**

> Whooo hooo! Fun times, ain't it? Anyhoo, hope you enjoyed! Also, there's a discord if you wanna join. Here's the link if you're interested!   
> https://discord.gg/VWvZ6sgavF


End file.
